


Morphine

by raffinit



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, I shouldn't be allowed to post things but I have, OC involvement, although very mildly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things that happen in one's life that dictate the rest of the journey. There are decisions that one makes that ends it. For Emily Prentiss, she makes a decision - she makes an offer - that changes the rest of her life, and Hotch's.</p><p>"She knows they will regret this; it's obvious he already does, but for one night, Emily wants to let go and not be Prentiss. But how cruel Fate can be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lay Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post of Morphine, from my FFN account. Hopefully this is the better post; I will be double checking and editing both accounts, so here's to hoping this version of Morphine comes out better. :D

It happens in the heat of the moment.

There is no prior intention from either party, and that is going to be their defense when they are standing in front of the Senate committee, being tried for fraternization and massive amounts of stupidity. That it is all because of her concussion and his loss of his son and wife, and a combination of both their vulnerable state that drives them together. That they were staring into each other's weary face, saddened eyes and realized that sex is the best remedy for a tortured soul.

But that is a thought for another time. Right now neither Hotch nor Emily can think of anything more than  _fuck, right there. Oh God!_

There is little ceremony or decorum; nothing but greedy hands clawing, groping, and tugging. He plunders her mouth, all teeth and tongue that she eagerly reciprocates. He has her pinned to the wall of her apartment, large hands rough and domineering as he shoves her into the wall, and Emily bites down on impact. They taste blood between them, and Hotch growls in his chest. His growl is deep, primal and heated - it makes her wetter than she already is.

He takes her against the wall, hard and fast and desperate. There is no time to shed his clothes; only to unbuckle his belt and drop his pants low on his hips. His coat falls limply by his elbows, where Emily has shoved it haphazardly while he was busy sucking on her neck.

She, on the other hand, is almost virtually naked, from his insistent need to touch her. Her red tank top is lying mangled on the floor, her pants pooled around her ankle as Hotch lifts one of her pale thighs to wrap around his hip. Her hands are locked around his shoulders and neck, short nails digging into muscular flesh through his shirt as he surges into her. A strangled gasp rips from her throat - it's been a while for her, and he's larger than she anticipated, but there's no time to think.

He waits, just a moment, just a split second as his dark eyes open on hers and he stares into the dark whirls of her eyes. There's something there; a shift in their eyes that weave into each other, but he doesn't linger on it. He can't. Instead he shifts his hips, shoving her thighs further apart and he pounds into her with the vigor of a lust-starved man. His back arches when her nails drag along the back of his neck, and his thrusts intensify.

They will both bruise by the end of it all. And neither of them cares.

It's deeply erotic; the coarse fabric of his shirt brushing deliciously against her straining nipples, the brush of his slacks against the sensitive skin of her thighs. The rough slap-slapping of his hips slamming into hers burns; sharp pleasure-pain that rivets through her body like a Taser. His harsh pants for breath are hot and damp against her ear, his teeth nipping at the skin of her neck. His hips are ceaseless, brutalizing her against the wall so hard her head thuds against the plaster.

She begs for more, like her soul feeds on it.

Stars burst under her eyelids, pleasure sears through her spine as her inner walls clamp around him tight as she screams out her release. She is still twitching in the aftershocks when he slams into her to the hilt, burying himself deep inside her. A harsh groan of words escapes through his gritted teeth as he twitches once, twice, three times, and Emily feels him spill inside her. The heavy warmth feels like white heat inside her, proof that this is not a dream and she is not safe and warm in bed, fingers toying and teasing.

There is a man here, inside her, pinning her against a wall as they both catch their breaths. Aaron is here, twitching still inside her.

It is a long silence before he speaks again, lifting his head from her sweat slick shoulder. He stares down at her through whiskey eyes dark with the remainders of lust and pride, tracing down her face like a physical touch. A shiver runs down her spine when his eyes drag down to her mouth once more, taking in the sight of her kiss-swollen lips and love bitten skin. His vice-like grip loosens on the thigh he holds pinned to his side, lowering it to the ground as she staggers for balance.

"I'm sorry." The whisper is something he can only think to say, other than 'round two'. It is neither appropriate nor right for him to say - he has just taken his subordinate up against the wall of her apartment. He isn't even undressed! He stares down at her, flushed and still shaky on her legs, naked and gloriously beautiful. There is a stirring in his stomach again, and Hotch knows he has to leave the apartment now or they'll start round two, three and four all over again.

Emily pulls her pajama pants back over her body, grimacing internally as the evidence of their coupling dampens the material. She knows he is struggling for something to say – she can see the turmoil behind his dark eyes and thick lashes that he is trying to figure out something to say to her that doesn't make her sound like a whore, or he an adulterer. What has happened between them has happened, and now she crosses her arms over her chest, cupping her breasts in her hands.

"You can go if you want to," she whispers to him gently, focusing instead on grabbing her discarded tank top from the floor. She can't bring herself to look him in the eye, lest she risk seeing the man she had fallen in love with a long time ago. The ache is now sharp in her chest, knowing that he is already regretting their encounter, but she acknowledges this pain, and pushes it aside into a little box. He has no obligation to her; she surrendered herself willingly to his hungry hands and mouth. They are both responsible for their actions.

He is shifting awkwardly on his feet, pants already buckled and jacket resting neatly on his broad shoulders. The material of his shirt and coat are rumpled, no longer pressed, and he looks deliciously disheveled standing there in front of her. In his eyes she can see he has so much more to say, and yet he is horrified at his actions. So Emily decides to take another one for the team, and stands on her tiptoes to press a soothing kiss on his lips.

He tenses, but she pulls back before he can react. "This never happened. We don't talk about this, and we go back to normal on Monday. Okay?" She offers him a strained smile, and stands there as he flees her apartment without another word. After the door of her apartment shuts, and Aaron Hotchner is long gone, Emily walks into her bathroom. She runs a bath, and as she waits for the porcelain tub to fill, she strips her clothes and sits with her knees folded to her chest.

She weeps.


	2. Oh my Love, Don't Forsake Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch and Emily talk.

 

The week runs like clockwork. They see each other at work, engage in polite conversation and commit themselves entirely to their sudden uprising of cases. With Hotch free of suspension, their cases have stopped being passed along to the B team. This means more work for them, and thankfully for her, less time to dwell on things unsaid. She compartmentalizes well when she is distracted by heartless killers, blood rushing through her veins like fire as they race against time to find their UnSub before he strikes again.

The team knows something is wrong. Or at least, they know that something has  _happened_ within the last week, but Emily is thankful that none of them mention it. Rossi gives her little odd, almost curious looks while the others just wonder if she had taken a blow to the head too hard. Most of them concentrate on their cases; only she and Rossi know about Hotch's separation for now.

They decide that perhaps it is best for now.

Friday comes around faster than she expects it to, once more too distracted by her paperwork and cases to notice the days passing by. Emily's time is spent between work and the gym, running her frustrations through the sparring mat with Morgan after work. She is exhausted by the time they call a truce, and all she wants to do is go home and lay in a hot bath with Miles Davis soothing her to sleep. But then she remembers that her files are upstairs at her desk, and she knows that she'll be itching to finish her paperwork over the weekend.

So upstairs she goes, sweat damp on her skin all the way through her bureau tank top. She wipes at the trail that falls down her temple, draping the towel around her neck as she reaches her desk and bends down to pull out her files. As she straightens to file them into her briefcase, the hairs at the back of her neck bristles, and she tenses on the spot. She is aware of the reason why. She is always aware of the reason.

He is standing on the walkway, watching her.

"Emily."

The low timbre of his voice cuts through the bullpen like a whip, her name sounds like a statement rather than a greeting on his lips. Straightening her spine, Emily steels herself with a heavy breath before she glances at him over her shoulder, nodding at him stiffly. "Sir," she replies curtly, and promptly zips her bag shut with a finality that allows for no questions. They are off the clock; there is no obligation for her to be any more polite to him than she is at the office. Outside of work, he is no longer her superior and Unit Chief; he is simply the man that she had to let go.

She moves to leave, but his voice pins her to the floor once again.

" _Emily."_

She's never heard him plead before. Never ever hears anything but certainty and steadfastness in his voice that sometimes she wonders if he feels anything for anyone at all. But she knows better than to think of things like that – she is well aware that he loves, and loves deeply, and so she turns before she can stop herself. It's funny to her; how obedient she's become to him, even when she wants to do nothing more than run, and run far.

She stares at his face, noting the look of surprise on his own face at his plea. She says nothing as she stands there staring, watching as he clears his throat softly and falls back into his Unit Chief Façade.

"I know we might not be…on good terms at the moment, but I was hoping you'd like to join me for dinner." He rushes to placate the dubious frown on her face. "You don't have to, of course. It's just that it's late; neither of us have had dinner, and I know that Morgan wears you out on the mat." He cannot help the jealousy that taints his statement, however hard he tries, and instead he offers her a weak smile, hoping she'll accept this olive branch long in the making.

He wants to speak to her, of course. To apologize for his actions and assure her that it wasn't his intention at all. And after he has hopefully gained her forgiveness, he will do his best to stay on her good side. Maybe after a while, he will buy her coffee in the mornings, and maybe for lunch. And after that he will ask her if dinner on a regular basis was something she would protest to. And then maybe lunch on weekends….

Emily bites her lip, and all of Hotch's optimism wilts away like a dying flower. It is understandable that she is apprehensive about his intentions, but still it plunges a stake of guilt into his chest. She doesn't think it's a good idea, he can tell. "Please," he says softly, dark eyes staring down at the woman as she shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I thought maybe you and I could talk."

His dark eyes staring at her almost makes her want to say yes and throw herself at him, but Emily swallows the lump in her throat and does something she hopes she won't regret. "Okay," she murmurs, almost meekly as she slips her drawer shut and tugs her briefcase to her side. Awkwardly she stands there; sweaty, disheveled and flushed pink. Much like the last time they were alone together. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and waits patiently for him to switch off the lights of his office, watching closely as he moves fluidly through the bullpen down to where she waits.

He offers her a small smile of thanks as he reaches her, nodding to her once before motioning towards the elevators. "Would you prefer Chinese or the diner around the corner?"

* * *

The ride to the diner is awkward at best, and both Hotch and Emily almost leap from the Unit Chief's SUV when he parks in the lot in front of the diner. They order their usual – burger and fries with Coke, Sprite for her – and they sit through their respective meals in the silence. Neither of them knows where to start, and Hotch offers her a sheepish smile. There's something in his eyes that she can't place, something she thinks is in her mind, and nowhere else.

She beats him to the punch.

"How are Haley and Jack?"

He seems thrown by her question, it is clear her question is not something he anticipated. But he schools his features, calm and cool as he responds. "They're fine," he tells her. "They are the reason I've wanted to speak to you, actually." His confession puts a feeling of dread in Emily's chest, though she knows she's not supposed to feel it – she was the one who had given him the out. If the man is going to tell her now that what they had done was a mistake, and how his wife would now like to come over and gouge her eyes out, well, she was going to make it easier for him.

"Haley and I -,"

"You're good together," she cuts in, a quiet declaration as she fiddles with the straw of her drink. She doesn't want to look him in the eye, but she does anyway. Emily sets her jaw and steels herself as she prepares herself to tell the man she has fallen in love with to fight for his marriage – for his son.

"You're a man of many talents, Hotch, but you can't play superman for us and be there for your family. JJ told me that you've been together since high school, and I don't think you should throw that away just because you're in a rut with Haley right now. This job…it takes a lot out of all of us, but it takes a lot more out of  _Haley_. I can't imagine what it must be like for her to sit at home with Jack and worry about whether or not his Daddy is in the hands of a sick sociopath. I don't think I could be able to sit there and do nothing, I couldn't stomach it."

Deep down inside her, the last bit of hope she hangs onto fades away with a dying breath. A part of her that held the smidgen of possibility that he hasn't brought her to dinner to tell her it was a mistake; that he wants her as much as she wants him, has now completely been erased from her heart. She cannot be a home wrecker - it is not in her bones to be one. She cannot allow herself to be the cause of his young innocent boy's broken home.

No matter how much it hurts her inside, or how much she must hurt him; she must let him go, for both their sakes.

"Fight for them, Hotch. Don't let Jack grow up wondering why his father's not around." Emily inhales heavily, as she stares at Hotch's unreadable face. "So thank you for taking me out for dinner, sir, but it wasn't necessary." She smiles a self-deprecating smile, as she is wont to do. "I get the point."

His mind reels at what she has said. It takes every ounce of his strength and skill to keep from bursting out with his denial. That was  _not_ what he was going to say! He wants to scream out, reach out and shake her and tell her she's wrong. He doesn't want to fight – he's too tired of fighting. They both are. He wants  _her_. To do this right; to take her out for lunch, buy her flowers and little gifts through the day, surprises for her. To hold her in his arms as he makes love to her and whispers that he loves her over and over and over again.

But she doesn't want him.

The disappointment he feels in his chest, he hopes is not conveyed through his face as he nods stiffly and swallows the lump in his throat. There is so much more he wants to say, but as he stares into her wide brown eyes, he sees her wishing otherwise, imploring him to make the kill quick, and end her suffering. His chest aches at the pleading look on her face, and he crumbles.

"Thank you for understanding," he croaks, and he musters a smile he certainly doesn't feel as he fishes out money for dinner. She protests, but he shakes his head sternly, not trusting his voice as he tosses the bills onto the table. He stands abruptly, ignoring the burn in his throat and the pain in his chest. "I'll drive you back to Quantico."

Two weeks later, he signs for a leave of absence, and takes his family somewhere up north. He needs to be away from the office.

He needs to be away from her.


	3. In The Shadow of Your Heart

The weeks pass like months. Long, torturous and slow. He knows he should be savoring his time away from work, cherishing his time with his family. And he is; he adores his son, loves him endlessly, but things aren't the same between him and Haley anymore. Not that he expected them to be, but he knows that she feels the distance now more than ever. She was suspicious when he told her he had taken a leave of absence, and he doesn't blame her.

He tries his best to put on a happy face for his wife – does his best to convince himself that this is all worth fighting for, like Emily wants him to, but he finds himself unable to keep the thought of  _her_ from his mind.

Haley notices, of course. There isn't much that Aaron can keep from her; not after the years they have spent together. She knows that while he does his best for their sake – reminding her of the sweet, Southern boy that she fell in love with in high school – she knows his heart isn't in it.

But this time, she finds herself unshakably calm at the thought of losing her high school sweetheart. Perhaps it was the time away, or the conscience that came in the voice of her sister – she wasn't sure, but suddenly Haley understands why Aaron is so distant. It is his instinct to protect her and their son from the horrors he sees. It was never like this when Aaron was a prosecutor, and though it took a while for her to come to terms with it, Haley is certain now what she must do.

People change through time; she chides herself for being a fool and not acknowledging that. She's changed, and so has he, and she decides that perhaps it  _is_ best if they part ways. She knows that this will hurt him, definitely, but the wounds will heal, because she knows that he feels it too.

- _Morphine_ -

She finds him standing by the waterfront, watching their son play by the river that sits in the backyard of their holiday home on the tip of Lake Hebron. It is a home left to them by her father, and she remembers her childhood summers spent up here with Jess as bright eyed, inquisitive little girls. But now isn't the time to reminisce. There isn't much to say, so she simply slips herself calmly beside her husband for a long, quiet moment.

It's so peaceful that she almost doesn't want to break the silence. But she feels Aaron shift uncomfortably beside her, and she knows that her silence shakes him. After a moment of watching their son – the beautiful life they brought into the world – she turns to him slightly.

"Maybe it's time."

* * *

They wait until after dinner, and Jack is put to bed after a reading of The Bedtime Book with his Daddy and a goodnight kiss from Mommy. He is two already – or at least, going to be two in a very short time. Hotch keeps away the book, and waits for Haley in the dimly lit hall as she tucks their son in. There is much to discuss; so many things he wants to explain, but a part of him is also terrified at the knowledge that his marriage is ending.

As his mind reels with every mistake he's ever done; the failure of a husband and father he is, Haley steps out of the bedroom, and all thoughts are promptly clamped shut in the box labeled 'Aaron' while all things 'Hotch' come out. He hates to do this, but he knows he must, if he's going to get through this. Aaron isn't strong enough to survive the separation, but Hotch is.

He tries for a smile in the dark hallway, and by the sad one that is returned, he knows it came out grim. Apparently they've both been prepping themselves for the inevitable.

And so they sit and they talk; about things they should've said a long time ago. Haley tells him about the growing distance, how much she hates that he keeps things from her, and though she understands why; it still makes her feel "like you don't trust me enough to know." She tells him how alone she feels when she's at home alone with Jack – how it's almost like she's a single parent sometimes.

He hurts, she sees it in his eyes, and no matter how much she wants to blame him, she knows she can't. Because she knows he's doing all of this for them – to keep her and their son safe.

Hotch sits there and listens, interjecting only once before he can help himself, when she tells him that things aren't the same. "I know they're not, and I'm sorry. But they aren't supposed to be the same. I know you didn't sign on for this, Haley, but the BAU is completely different from paper pushing." He manages to keep his tone calm and even, but the mild undertone is there.

"I know," Haley tells him calmly. She knows that after he was selected for the SWAT team, he has never really been able to get off the adrenaline high that he felt when he was on the team. "It's human nature, I guess. You don't let go of what makes you feel alive." She offers him a watery smile, and it pains him to see the tears in her eyes.

He apologizes again. "That's not why I do this," he explains. "It might be part of it, yes, but I do it because someone needs to. We are good at what we do –  _I_ am good at what I do, and I'd rather be here finding these men and making a difference rather than sitting behind a desk all day and pushing paper."

Haley smiles slightly; and it's a smile that tells him that she expected that answer from him. She nods her head at him, knowing full well that this is a part of who he is now – he may not be the sweet boy and worst fourth pirate that bought her Dairy Queen ice cream on their first date anymore, but somewhere under Hotch, is Aaron. The boy who wanted to make a change, became a lawyer because he was good at it, and wanted to make a difference. He is still that boy inside, but she doesn't see him anymore.

No, she sees a man who needs more. He needs a more that she cannot give him, and she cannot stop the tears that fall at the thought. She stifles a sob as she cups his face and kisses him hard; one last kiss. Her heart lifts briefly when he kisses her back with just as much vigor, but she pulls away and sighs heavily as her thumbs stroke the now damp cheeks of her husband. "I will always, always love you, Aaron. This isn't your fault – we should've known things would change. We should've seen it coming."

"But high school is over, Aaron. Maybe it is time we start another chapter in our lives – separately."

He nods, a slight jerk of his head, and when he looks at her face, his eyes are red-rimmed and teary. "What about Jack?" He is almost afraid to know the answer – she had previously taken his son from him already; he is terrified at the idea of it happening again.

Thankfully, Haley shakes her head and wipes the tears from her eyes. She takes a moment to calm herself before she looks down at Hotch with a determined set in her jaw. "No matter what happens between us, you are always going to be his father. I would never think of taking him from you, and I'm sorry I had to before. I wasn't thinking straight. He is ours, Aaron, and I would never keep him from you."

He has to make peace with that for now, until they can officially sign for a joint custody. But Hotch finds himself partially relieved that at least one of his troubles has been settled. This makes things easier for him, when he goes back to Quantico on Monday morning.

Now at least, he has a real chance with Emily.

* * *

The Monday he returns, he finds a bounce in his step that he tries his best to smother, instead striding as purposefully as ever into the building. He walks through the glass doors of the BAU, expecting to see the dark hair and pretty face that hasn't been able to leave his mind all the while.

He finds her desk empty; troublingly empty.

Dave calls out to him from the walkway, which attracts the attention of the others. As they offer amiable welcomes back, Hotch cannot shake the nagging thought at the back of his mind that Emily isn't there. When things settle down, he catches JJ's eye, and the flicker in her blue eyes tells him something is amiss.

"JJ," he starts, and frowns when the blonde jolts slightly, uncharacteristically skittish. "Where is Emily?"

JJ hesitates to answer, looking at Rossi for a moment, and when the man nods his assent, she finally addresses her Unit Chief. "Emily's been called away, sir, by Interpol. Chief Strauss has agreed to lend Agent Prentiss for a consult." There is something in her voice that has Hotch doubting this answer, but he takes it with a frown.

"And how long will this consult be?" he demands, the pinch in his brow now back in its place. He should've anticipated that she would run away from him too, but he didn't expect it to be an official federal business. "Prentiss is my agent – why didn't Strauss bring this to me?"

The Media Liaison offers him a slight shrug, though she chooses to avoid eye contact. "It was important, sir. It couldn't wait."

"Higher-ups say jump - Erin says how high," Rossi adds snidely, and Hotch feels his anger growing. Strauss was  _really_ pushing it now.

JJ smiles at him apologetically, and waves the files she holds in her hands. "We have a new case for you, sir."

As much as he wants to march up to Strauss' office and demand that she return Emily, he can't. His team looks at him expectantly, awaiting orders that were usually given by Gideon. He knows they're still coping, and Reid fidgets uncomfortably from his desk, and Hotch knows they need him now more than ever.

Emily would (unfortunately) have to wait.


	4. You Left Me in The Dark

"Chief Strauss, it's been four months. I understand that the FBI is generous, but I believe we've over-extended our generosity in this case. Agent Prentiss is a member of my team, and I'd like her back. She has obligations to our team; not Interpol."

" _I understand that this may be unorthodox and foreign to you, Agent Hotchner, but Agent Prentiss is an accomplished agent. Her skills are invaluable to Interpol at the current moment. The Director has approved of it, and you'll just have to wait."_

Hotch is livid, Rossi can tell by the tight clench of his jaw and the fire in the younger man's eyes. Erin is a force to behold, especially in bureau terms. If he is honest with himself, Rossi is certain the woman is the cause of his high blood pressure. "For how much longer?" the Unit Chief barely manages not to snarl the question, and Rossi commends Aaron's self control.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Strauss tells him tartly. "Terrorism is taken very seriously, Aaron. You know this." It's as if she's speaking to a five year old child, and Hotch feels his temper surge again.

"My agent is being put at risk," he says hotly, refraining from adding how Strauss would know nothing about team loyalty, because he's already on paper thin ice with the Section Chief. Any more insubordination and he could be suspended. But he wants Emily back. He  _needs_ Emily back. It's been too long without the woman around; he's gotten used to seeing her sitting around the boys and talking with JJ about something girly.

Strauss frowns, glancing at him over her glasses. "She is not –,"

"So  _give her back_!" The sharp outburst echoes through her office, and both Rossi and Strauss are left to sit there, stunned as Hotch burns red and mutters an apology before disappearing from the room like his coat's on fire. Rossi and Strauss sit there and stare at each other, neither exactly sure of what has just happened.

Rossi decides to break the silence first, clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting in his seat. "Well uh, he's been on edge as of late," he explains. "You should know why." He casts a look at the blonde, and is relieved to see that Strauss does in fact, have a heart.

She sighs and removes her glasses. "Yes, I do." Gideon's sudden disappearance and Agent Prentiss' time away would put pressure on anyone trying to keep his team together. She shoots Rossi a firm look, knowing well that the man sitting in front of her is her only option if she's going to regain some semblance of control over Hotchner's team. "Keep an eye on him, Dave. Help him through this."

Rossi chuckles as he rises from his seat. "Careful, Erin – one of these days, people will start to think you care for Hotch."

Strauss rolls her eyes at him. "Pray no word is spread of this then."

* * *

It's been four months since Emily's left. Four months of going through a divorce lawyer and settling which things to move out of the house and where to live, and four months of wondering if he shouldn't somehow coerce Garcia into tracking Emily's cell phone and going to find her. He doesn't enjoy Interpol much; and them the FBI, but he really,  _really_ doesn't like the idea of his agent –  _his_ Emily – being lent to another agency without his consent.

The thought boils his blood.

So he decides to take matters into his own hands.

"Garcia!"

His sharp tone jolts the perky blonde from her seat in front of her monitors, and she offers him a nervous salute. "Is there something wrong, sir?" she asks nervously. The boss man has been temperamental and dangerously brooding, and Garcia knows better than to tempt his temper when he's looking like the darkest storm to ever exist.

His eyes dart over the many screens in front of her, and he fishes out his phone from his pocket. "You can trace people from their cell phones, can't you? You can isolate their positions?" He flips the phone open and immediately begins scrolling for Emily's name.

Garcia nods vigorously. "Yes, sir, I most definitely can." She is working away at her computer, opening up the relevant applications when he shoves the phone under her nose and demands that she find Emily. "Prentiss?" She takes the phone from the man and looks up at him curiously. "But, she's away on duty, sir. I can't violate protocol and hack into Interpol's database…." He's giving her a look, and things click in place in her head.

"One dark-haired, Vonnegut loving nerd, coming right up, sir."

* * *

There is a choice Emily is dreading to make. It is something she cannot bring herself to even think about; not for very long. Even the thought of it now has tears filling her eyes, but Emily swallows the lump in her throat.

It's nothing but hormones and loneliness, she tells herself. Yes; loneliness.

But tears come back, faster and hotter this time, and the lump wells in her throat again.

She is nauseous.

- _Morphine_ -

Her phone trills from her bed, calling out to her almost beseechingly as Emily contemplates picking up the call or letting it go to her voicemail. She doesn't really want to talk to anyone at the moment, and she has a sneaky suspicion that the person on the other end of the ringing phone is a person highest on her 'avoid at all cost' list.

She hesitates, but picks the phone up from her bed. "Prentiss,"

" _Peaches!"_

Emily feels a rush of relief - and amusement - go through her, as she laughs as the familiar Technical Analyst's bright voice sang through the phone. "Garcia, how did you get this number?"

" _Oh, precious, you're talking to the girl who locked down the FBI database when she was 17 for fun. Don't even try to hide from the All Seeing Eye because this Seeker has got Internet skills like Harry does at Quidditch. Where have you been hiding?"_

Emily smiles despite herself; the bubbly blonde has certainly taken a liking to her, and Emily finds herself amused – (and a little bit terrified) – at Penelope Garcia's snooping skills. If she could dupe the FBI, Interpol won't prove to be much of a challenge. She prays that it is, though. "I'm sorry, PG, but I'm on classified duty. Interpol doesn't particularly enjoy having their databases hacked as a past time."

Garcia huffs petulantly.  _"I had to do something to get you. You dropped off the face of the Earth! The Boss Man is fuh-lipping out about Strauss lending you to the James Bonds."_

The mention of her Unit Chief forces Emily's heart to jolt but a fraction, and she inhales sharply. "I know I should've told him myself, but this couldn't wait." She's hardly convincing herself, but she hopes that Garcia hasn't picked up any profiling skills as well. "This job is top priority on Interpol's list."

" _Well, you can run around being all 'international spy extraordinaire' for now, but remember that you are_ _my_ _vision, and I do not like to share."_ The threatening tone underlying fades away to an apologetic, sheepish hum.  _"Also, the Boss Man wants to talk to you. Love you, bye!"_

"No, Garcia -!" There is a shuffle and a break, and Emily bites her lip hard to smother the expletive that sits on the tip of her tongue. She should've known that Garcia wouldn't have called her without reason. E-mails would've sufficed, but now –

" _Emily?"_

The sound of her name in his low voice stuns Emily petrified. Suddenly she's afraid to move; to breathe, and just pretend that the line had been cut. He calls her name again, and Emily fights some sense into her head. "Sir," she replies, schooling her voice and clamping down on the ball of emotions in her stomach. She tries to focus on Prentiss and not Emily.

"I hear there's been…an issue with my re-assignment."

He is silent for a long moment, but vaguely Emily thinks she can hear the click-clacking of Garcia's ridiculous heels fading into the distance. She swallows, because she knows what it means.

They are alone.

His voice jolts her again.  _"Where are you?"_

"Somewhere," she replies vaguely, keeping faith in Clyde's promise of keeping her out of bounds. Hotch cannot find her – not through the phone, at least. "I'm not allowed to give out information."

He sighs, an annoyed sound, and Emily sees in her mind's eye; the perfectly composed Unit Chief, frowning as he leans over Garcia's desk to speak into the phone. She pushes the image away – it will do neither of them any good to fantasize.

" _Strauss told me you volunteered to go for this assignment,"_ he says quietly.  _"Is that true?"_

**Is it true that you ran away from me?**

She shifts uncomfortably in her lounge chair, tucking her feet under her as she considers his question and the underlying one as well. "My old partner called in a favor," she says carefully. "No one else has information about this assignment more than we do."

He seems to consider this for a moment, humming a petulant sound.  _"But you'll be coming back."_ It's not so much a question as much a statement, and Emily bites her lip.

" _Emily."_

"Of course," she responds smoothly, brushing her hair aside and resisting the urge to nibble at her hair ends. It's bad enough she no longer has nails to peel; she doesn't need split ends too. "Like I said – I belong in that unit."

He seems pleased to hear her say that.  _"Good. So you'll be coming home soon then?"_ He is practically giddy on the inside to know that she still considers herself a part of the team; that this is where she really belongs, right by his side. However, the newfound hope he has falters when Emily is silent.

"I…can promise you I'll be coming home, but I can't say when." He takes the hesitation in her voice to be that she is being forcefully held there against her will, and all of his instincts of protecting her rise up like a tidal wave.

" _I can have you out of wherever they're holding you in fifteen minutes,"_  he promises her. He's already waving Garcia back into the room when Emily's soft chuckle stops him in his tracks, together with his name on her lips.

Emily shakes her head, smiling fondly as she adjusts the phone under her ear and decides to walk out to the balcony. It's a pretty sunrise, and she wants to watch it. "Hotch, it's fine. That's not what I meant. I meant that I have to finish this before I can come home."

He tucks his lips inward, biting down on them as he considers what she is saying.  _"I hope you're not avoiding me on purpose,"_  he murmurs softly, unable to resist the guilt that sits in his chest of knowing that she feels uncertain enough to want to be away longer than come back to him.

"Of course not," she says immediately. Although they both seem to know that she's in denial, because there is an awkward silence descending on them. She nibbles her lower lip, trying to figure out the next thing to say. "I know we need to talk," she admits reluctantly. It's the idea of them doing more than just talking that terrifies her.

" _Yes."_ He feels even more miserable now that he knows that she's out there somewhere, somewhere he can reach out and touch her, and yet she's so far away. It's killing him on the inside to know that she's afraid of facing him. He hates that he makes her feel like this is somehow her fault.  _"I'll wait for you,"_ he promises her.  _"However long it takes; I'll wait for you, Emily."_

Emily is uncertain still. "It might be months before I come back," she warns him.

" _I don't care if it's years – I'll be here when you come home."_


	5. Tell Me What You're Running From

 

It’s another six months, and Emily still hasn’t come home yet. With every passing month, Hotch’s moods become increasing dark and thunderous, and the others know better than to risk asking lest they have a death wish. It fluctuates between calm and what they can only describe as chipper, and broody and depressed. At first they think it’s because of the divorce, but it seems that he and Haley have worked on an agreement, and he’s been seeing his son every other weekend whenever they are in town.

So it can’t be his home life, but none of them can really place it. They briefly consider it to be Emily’s absence, but from what they could tell; when the brunette was around, Hotch wasn’t necessarily her best friend.

“It’s probably just the cases,” JJ says one day, as they prepare to take off to another state yet again. With five women dead in a matter of six weeks – each killed progressively faster than the last – has them on their toes. Their profile of their UnSub tells them the man is narcissistic to the point of extremes, and doesn’t take rejection well. He is most likely experiencing paranoid delusions about the women he encounters, and because of his mental instability, they have to work fast.

But JJ doesn’t follow them as they move to leave for the airstrip.

“Aren’t you coming, JJ?” Hotch asks flatly as he gathers the files. His eyebrows tighten as he frowns at her curiously, coming off as severe when he is simply being the Unit Chief.

JJ shakes her head. “I’d rather stay back and help from home base,” she tells him. When Hotch seems confused by this, she explains why. “I’m going to stay and help Emily move around some things in her apartment. She’s only been home a week, and she has some furniture to move around.”

Hotch stares at JJ, stunned at the mention of _her_ name. “Emily’s home?” His heart pounds in his chest – an excitement that threatens to put a smile on his face. “Prentiss is back on duty, then?”

The blonde offers him an apologetic smile and shakes her head. “She’ll probably be out of the office for about another week. Apparently the handler of the case explicitly told her to get a week’s rest at least for the concussion to heal,” she explains. She shoots Morgan a dry look and a wry smile as the man chuckles. “Hard Head was her nickname all around, I guess.”

“Don’t I know it,” Morgan chuckles.

Hotch, however, is frowning. “Emily was wounded? What happened? Why didn’t they call? Who is responsible?” The questions come out like machine gun rounds; fast, sharp and relentless until even Rossi cringes in sympathy for JJ.

It is a can of worms none of them are prepared to handle. But JJ holds up her hand reassuringly, placating the anxious man in ways only the Media Liaison can. “She is fine,” she tells him calmly. “It was just a bad hit to the head. Emily’s fault, really – she didn’t see the rafter overhead in the attic and ran into it.”

Hotch is dubious yet again about her explanation – but surely JJ wouldn’t lie to him about something as serious as this? Before he can question her, Rossi steps forward.

“She’s been known to be…clumsy at times,” the older man concedes. He glances at Hotch, watching the purse of his lips. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

Reid nods. “Emily’s spilt approximately seven cups of coffee, thirteen forkfuls of food and three sachets of Splenda in the last month she was here,” he informs them. It is obvious Emily isn’t the most adept at motor skills, but they are surprised that her clumsiness does not affect her fieldwork. Perhaps it is just another way that Emily compartmentalizes.

Their Unit Chief is still unsure; distrustful is his first reaction to most things. Morgan decides to help them out, and put the man’s fear at ease. “Come on, Hotch. It’s probably just a little bump on the head. Probably didn’t even need an x-ray.” He gives the man a hearty pat, and moves off towards the elevators.

“She was prescribed a week’s rest,” Hotch counters.

Rossi shrugged. “She’s been known to push herself; now come on – the jet’s waiting.”

Hotch is torn now between going to see Emily and flying out for the case. This is a fresh case – a case that will work better with Emily there, and usually his loyalty is never at stake, but now all he can think of is driving over to her apartment and sweeping her into his arms. They’ve been talking every other week, courtesy of Garcia, but she has never mentioned anything about a head injury before. It’s very much like her to keep it from them, but he feels hurt now that she chooses to keep it from him again.

His reverie is broken by Dave as the man grabs him by the arm.

“Come on, Aaron. We’ve got a case,” he repeats, impatiently this time.

Hotch catches JJ’s eye desperately. “You’ll call and let me know she’s alright?” he asks her – almost pleads with her - and the blonde nods her acquisition. His indecision is clear on his face, and the pained expression will forever be burned into JJ’s memory as he turns away, and follows Dave to the elevators.

Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.

\---------------

“You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

Emily stares at the blonde, unsure if it’s a joke or an actual statement of displeasure. She throws the rag over her shoulder and flaps the glaring blonde away, gesturing her into her apartment and into her kitchen. They haven’t seen each other in months, but she has been calling and e-mailing JJ as much as she was capable. There should be no reason for JJ to be sulking at her now.

“What’d I do this time?” she wonders as she puts the coffee on and slides a bowl of fruit in JJ’s direction. As an Ambassador’s daughter, she never leaves her guests sitting idle.

JJ picks up a banana; glaring at Emily benignly all the while she is skinning it. “You drop off the face of the Earth for like ten months and you just expects us to be okay with that?” she exclaims. “What’d you do; have a baby?”

Emily freezes, and JJ is suddenly afraid to ask if she’s right. Suddenly she looks at the woman in front of her and she sees the bags under her dark eyes; the baggy clothes and the gaunt hollows of her cheeks. Emily looks like she hasn’t slept well in months, but she isn’t pregnant anymore – JJ’s eyes dart to her stomach, which seems flat, as it was before, but her hips did seem wider and her breasts larger. But she can’t really tell; not under the baggy shirt Emily is wearing. If anything, the only real proof JJ has of Emily’s pregnancy – she can’t believe she didn’t notice it the first time, but now that she knows what to look for, finds it rather easily - is the fact that she has a rack of baby bottles lined beside her kitchen sink.

“Oh my God….” JJ’s eyes are terrifyingly wide. The truth of her statement scares her because this means that Emily was afraid to tell them – _her,_ at least – about her pregnancy. “Is that why Strauss sent you away?”

The brunette shakes her head hurriedly, rushing to soothe her friend whom she knows is about to lapse into a panic attack and she cannot allow that. “I called in a favor with some friends. I had them officially ask for me to consult on some real cases.”

JJ gapes at her still. “So this – it was all actually – just official business?” she asks haltingly; her brain unable to come up with proper sentences. The woman that she considers one of her best friends has a _baby_ and she didn’t know about it! “You’ve been in Europe all this while then?”

Emily nods slowly, uncertain what to say. “I came back a couple of months ago – I wanted to deliver her here, on my home turf.”

At the mention of Emily’s baby, JJ cannot help but melt just a little. “It’s a ‘she’? You had a baby girl?” Emily doesn’t reply, but instead holds out a hand for JJ to take. Before she can fully register it, Emily is guiding her up the stairs into the spare bedroom, which seems to have now become her daughter’s nursery. The room is painted soft lavender with white borders around it, and the crib and diaper table are both white. In a corner of the room, a stack of plush toys sit patiently waiting for the room occupant to grow older.

“She just went down for her nap,” Emily whispers, and leads JJ to the crib. She lets got of her friend’s hand, and watches anxiously as JJ nervously approaches her daughter’s crib. Her lower lip is gnawed at viciously as she watches the first person she’s allowing to see – _know_ – about her daughter lean over the white oak crib.

“ _Oh_.” JJ’s hand drops to her mouth as she stares down at the tiny form in the crib, awed at the existence of this precious little human; fast asleep, safe and warm, with her dark eyelashes brushing her cheek. She is absolutely beautiful to JJ; a perfect little mini-me of Emily in so many ways that it’s scary. Dark hair, pale skin and the Monroe pout, it’s all Emily there. But there’s something in the baby’s features – something about the little frown on her face, the little severe ridge of her brow that rings familiar to JJ.

“She’s absolutely beautiful,” JJ sighs; grasping the bars of the crib and watching the baby sleep with a curious eye. She knows she’s seen that frown somewhere before – it’s not Emily though; Emily pouts more than she frowns, this is a full scale frown of deep thought on the baby’s face. Just like the one –

JJ’s sudden gasp jolts both Emily and the baby, the latter of which starts to wrinkle up her little face and wail her displeasure at being awoken to violently. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” JJ sputters as she stumbles back as Emily picks up her daughter and nestles her close to her stealthily bare chest, rocking the infant soothingly as the wails die down to a disgruntled whimper as the baby latches on and nurses greedily. It hits her like a freight train – a million realizations coming to her at once.

 _That_ is why Emily was so weird all those months ago when Hotch took his family to Connecticut. _That_ is why Hotch wanted to see her as soon as he got back. _That_ is Emily disappeared for so long. _That_ is why Hotch has been so temperamental with them all.

 _That_ is their child.

“Emily,” she says lowly, eyes never leaving the baby as she swallows the lump in her throat and readies herself to ask her best friend the questions that will open a million other can of worms. “I’m going to ask you something, and I’m going to need you to be honest with me. You _need_ to be honest with me.”

The brunette says nothing, but clutches her baby closer to her chest as she regards JJ nervously. She’s been trying to prepare herself for these questions, she really has, but the reality of standing in front of her best friend waiting to be questioned about an incident that happened months ago is still terrifying to her. “Of course,” she breathes, quelling the rush of emotions in her chest that comes to her every time the baby feeds. It’s even more intense now with everything she’s tried to bury for so long coming to the forefront.

JJ nods briefly, gratefully, and she forges ahead with her question. “Did you leave because of Hotch?”

_“Yes.”_

“Was there ever a consult with Interpol to begin with?”

_“No.”_

A shaky breath escapes her throat as JJ prepares herself to ask the final, ultimate question.

“Is she Hotch’s daughter?”

Emily hesitates for a long moment, suddenly desperately wanting to deny everything she’s just revealed and protect herself and her daughter, but she knows she can’t; not if she values their friendship. Inhaling sharply, she nods.

_“Yes.”_

 

 

 


	6. I Should've Known Better Than To Cave Into Such Fantasies

 

JJ and Emily are both sitting in Emily’s living room now, with the baby still nursing on her mother’s chest. JJ watches as Emily hugs her daughter close – the beautiful baby girl who has Daddy’s eyes – and settles back into an armchair. That is how the baby weight dies off, JJ guesses. That, and Emily’s obsessive need to exercise.

“She really is beautiful,” JJ gushes, seating herself on the couch across of Emily as she watches the baby wriggle and coo. “What’s her name?”

Emily smiles down at the baby, stroking a finger across her soft cheek. “Mia,” she utters. “Mia Prentiss.” Baby Mia coos at her mother, her little tongue sticking out as she smiles and flails her hands out to reach for Emily’s finger.

The blonde smiles softly. “That’s a pretty name,” she tells Emily, and then frowns slightly when a thought occurs to her. “If Hotch doesn’t know about her, that means he’s not listed on her birth certificate either.” It surprises her how much this bothers her; that Mia is not only a Prentiss – something JJ has nothing against -, but that Hotch legally is not considered the father.

“He’s not supposed to be,” Emily reminds her. “The state of Virginia laws state that he can’t be put on her birth certificate unless he signs a paternity acknowledgment or we get DNA testing done.” It will be too much drama on top of anything else, having an affidavit be sent to her supervisor’s office asking him to certify his paternal right to a child he doesn’t know exist.

“So are you going to tell him?” JJ asks her tentatively. She has seen the fear in Emily’s eyes about her knowing about the baby – she wonders if she’s planning on telling the father, if not the team. It’s not fair for Hotch to be kept in the dark about this – not about something as important as this.

“No,” is the immediate answer. “Why should I? He has a family; a wife, an adorable son. He doesn’t need to know.” Mia wriggles against her breast, tiny hands flexing around the soft skin of Emily’s chest until her mother gives her a finger to cling to. She is three months old already, with a dark patch of hair and curious eyes as she looks about the room, straining to turn her head to look at the woman sitting across them while sucking at her mother’s breast. She is learning to smile, and does so when she lets go of Emily’s breast with a gurgle, spitting milk as she coos and wriggles like a worm.

The women share a smile at the excitable baby, and Emily drapes the baby over her shoulder to burp her. Emily smiles as Mia belches loudly, though the corners of her eyes do not lift much. The baby in her arms is more than she ever dared to dream for, and she vows to give her baby girl the best life she possibly can.

…without her father.

“It’s not a big deal,” she tells JJ. “I told him to go back to Haley – it was just one night; I accept full responsibility for it. I won’t ruin his family just because the pill I was on decided to flunk out on me.” She gets up out of her seat and paces the living room, rocking the grinning baby in her arms as Mia watches her face with interest.

JJ lets out an exasperated sigh as she gets up to pace the living room with Emily. The brunette is afraid, and she can understand that, but Hotch is JJ’s friend – someone she views as her older brother, and she wants him to have the opportunity to know his daughter. If she were to be pregnant, the father would definitely know. She also sees what Hotch tries to hide from everyone else – he has feelings for Emily.

“Em,” she pleads. “Come on; be Hotch for just a second.” Emily stops pacing and gives her a mild glare, but JJ pushes through. “The woman you love is keeping your child from you – she isn’t giving you a chance to make up for things, or to see your adorable baby girl. Wouldn’t you want to know?”

Emily is defensive. “He doesn’t love me,” she denies sharply; Mia whimpers at her tone, staring up uncertainly at her mother. Emily soothes her child, but is glaring at JJ still. “He didn’t want me on the team in the first place. He was right not to trust me then – why should he trust me now? If I come to him with her; if I ruin what I told him to fix, there is nothing that will save what minimal trust he has left in me. I can’t have him questioning my loyalties when I come back.”

She cannot bear the thought of losing his trust again.

“So just because you’re afraid of being the ‘other woman’, you’ll deny him his right as her father?” JJ raises an eyebrow, challenging Emily to defend herself. “He divorced Haley months ago, Em. He’s not married anymore; you’re not a home-wrecker if you come home and tell him about Mia.”

The news stuns Emily, and her dark eyes widen at the realization before she composes herself and shakes her head. It can’t change her mind, it simply can’t. “So what, Jayje? Am I supposed to just waltz back into his life with Mia and expect him to just fall head over heels in love with me?” She scoffs at the very idea; Emily has long forgotten the concept of fairytale endings. “This isn’t a fairytale where the prince gets the girl in the end, JJ. This is real life; odds are, he’ll most likely deny the fact that he fathered Mia. She probably won’t exist in his eyes.”

“You don’t know!” JJ hisses back, blue eyes incredulous. Did Emily really think so little of Hotch? “You don’t know _how_ he feels because you won’t see him; you won’t talk to him! Do you know how miserable he’s been since you left? How much we have to walk on eggshells around him just so we don’t work up his temper? You don’t act like that if you’re not in love with the person that’s gone!”

She can’t stand the thought of Hotch being miserable – not if she can do anything to help. “And what is all this about trust? Of course he trusts you, Emily! He let you walk away, with nothing but your word that you’d be coming home. That is how much he trusts in you; that he would surrender himself to someone else’s control because he wants you home.

You think he couldn’t have just gotten Garcia to figure out your whereabouts and ship you back here? Because he would’ve flown over himself and hauled your pregnant ass back onto American soil if he didn’t trust you for a minute. So stop finding an excuse to be a damn coward and _face_ the father of your child! He has the right to know, even if you think otherwise.”

The baby is crying now, the air unsettlingly tense. Emily is furious, for how can this woman – her best friend – judge her decision without knowing her reason? She cannot love him – she simply _can’t._

“There is so much you don’t know about what’s going on, Jayje. _So much_. Don’t you _dare_ stand there and make me the bad guy in this, just because you’ve known him longer. I told him it meant nothing – I stand by my decision. He still has a  family to support, JJ! Regardless of whether or not he and Haley are still married; I am not going to ask him to choose between his family and one night!”

“You’re his family too!” JJ insists, gesturing to the wailing infant that Emily trying hard to placate. “She’s his child too – don’t you think he has the right to decide for himself whether or not he should support you both?”

Postpartum emotions well up on her like wildfire, and Emily is blinded by hot tears that cloud her vision as she glares at the blonde woman indignantly. Mia is whimpering against her shoulder, clutching at the strands of her hair as Emily rubs her back soothingly. There is too much tension in the air between the women; so palpable that it unsettles the baby.

Emily sighs tiredly and shakes her head. “I’m too tired to argue with you, JJ. I don’t want to argue with you at all, but you need to understand that I can’t let Hotch know about Mia. Not yet, at least. I do want her to have a father in her life, and I want it to be him, but it’s just all too complicated right now.”

Suddenly JJ realizes that there is one important question that she hasn’t asked Emily. “Do you love him?” she demands. All this while, they’ve been arguing about how Hotch loves Emily – never once have they considered the opposite. Emily stands there staring at her, lips pursed before she spins around and marches up the stairs to put Mia down in her crib again. JJ follows, waiting by the door as Emily winds up a vintage mobile and lets _Once Upon a December_ soothe her daughter.

With Mia safe away from the rising voices, Emily moves back down the stairs, whirling on JJ just as the blonde walks up behind her. “Why are you doing this, JJ?” Her dark eyes are filled with confusion and hurt and betrayal, red rimmed and tear filled. “Why are you pushing this? Have I done something to you before, and this is your way of getting back at me? What could I have possibly done to you that would make you want to do this?”

JJ stares at Emily sadly, feeling nothing but sympathy for her best friend. She has to do this – she has to remind Emily that this is about Hotch as well, and not just her and her daughter being safe. Something tells her that this is Emily’s first instinct to keep Mia safe, and she can’t blame her for it, she really can’t. But it is something she must do.

“You’ve done nothing wrong to me,” JJ whispers. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong to me, Emily.”

Emily sags, sucking in a shaky breath as she stares at the blonde in front of her in tortured confusion. “Then why, JJ?”

JJ is at her side immediately, guiding the exhausted woman onto the couch, where she clutches Emily’s hands in her lap and regards her calmly. “Sweetheart, I understand why you don’t want to tell him, I do,” she begins slowly, stroking Emily’s cold hands. “But keeping Mia away from him to save yourself from the possibility of being hurt by rejection is not going to save you from it. Hotch is going to find out one way or another.”

The statement seems to Emily a threat, and she starts to pull away, but JJ stands firm. “I won’t say a word,” the blonde promises her firmly. “I would never put you in that position ever. That’s not my decision to make. I just want you to know that you are not alone in this, Emily. There is a man there waiting to be with you and Mia, if you’ll just let him. We will _all_ be here for you, if you want us to. Mia is too precious of a baby girl to turn away from.”

Emily smiles slightly, though her trepidations about telling Hotch are far from soothed. “I will tell him when the time is right,” she says finally, taking a deep breath as her nerves jolt at the idea of standing face to face with the man and telling him he has a daughter. “That’s all I can say, Jayje. I can’t promise you much else.” She figures if the blonde is placated by her promise, she will have bought at least another month or two before the question comes up again.

JJ returns the smile warmly, pulling Emily into a tight hug which she is grateful the brunette reciprocates. “I’m sorry I upset you,” she mutters, rubbing Emily’s back. “And Mia. I really didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Emily replies, pulling back with a smile that assures JJ that none of this will be held against her. “It’s the baby blues – I was crying over Lifetime movies last night, will you believe it.” Their hands still cling to each other, and the women share a quiet laugh.

JJ’s blue eyes dart to the stairs, narrowing slightly as she smiles. “She has her father’s eyes,” she comments. “And his frown, and his dimples. It’s not going to be hard for the others to figure it out if they see her.”

Sighing heavily, Emily tilts her head at the woman. “I guess this will have to be our secret for a little while longer then.” She casts her hopeful eyes at JJ, clinging to her hands as the blonde smiles at her reassuringly.

“Of course,” JJ promises her. “That’s what best friends do for each other, right? They keep secrets.”

And so it is their secret for now.

 

 

 


	7. I Need Just One More Touch

 

The following week comes, and tensions run high. Their case had come to a standstill – their delusional narcissistic UnSub taunting them by being so desperately close and yet so disgustingly far. Hotch’s temper is frighteningly short, and as the days go by, his eyebrows draw in tighter. He is frustrated with the case, more so than the others, because even they are thrown by the uncanny resemblance of their newest victim to their beloved Emily Prentiss. The dark hair and pale skin shook the Unit Chief to his core, and they are driven even harder to find the son of a bitch.

They are so close to throwing in the towel with the case, each of the team members praying for a miracle or at least a lead.

By the second week, their prayers are answered.

It takes two weeks, but finally their UnSub gets too cocky and slips. Two long, agonizing weeks, but they save another girl and put the monster where he belongs. When they find their UnSub, it takes both Morgan and Rossi to stand guard over the bastard to avoid their Unit Chief walking into their interrogation and putting his head through the two-way window. Hours of nothingness, and they sic Hotch on the UnSub. Fifteen minutes later, the man is sobbing in a ball, pleading guilty to everything he’s done.

And yet, Hotch is nowhere nearly as relieved as he should be. The others are exhausted and dying to get home, go out and drink their miseries away, but Hotch is still frowning; still troubled by something in his mind.

It starts people talking.

“It’s got to be Emily, man. It has to be,” Morgan whispers to Reid as they depart the SUV and walk into their Quantico second home. “Can’t be nothing else.”

Reid hums in thought. “Well, according to Garcia, the last he’s spoken to Emily is last week – the timeline would fit into the frustration of the case and being deprived of communications with her,” he postulates.

“You think they’ve got something going on now that Prentiss is technically under Interpol?” Morgan wonders. It’s not like Hotch to have a personal concern affect him so seriously on the field. Even with Elle and Gideon, the man kept his emotions away from his work.

Rossi grunts from beside them, glaring reproachfully at the boys for wasting their time with speculations. It’s habits like that that will irritate Aaron more. “I think you two ought to shut your traps and mind you businesses before Hotch gets wind and decides to make the team even smaller,” he threatens. The man’s face is the darkest shade of thunder as it is.

The boys heed his advice, scurrying into the bullpen as Hotch rounds the corner, glowering.

They barely make it through the glass doors.

Hotch frowns from behind them, glaring impatiently at the backs of their heads. His displeasure at being stalled is ignored, and it irks him more. “What are you two looking at?” he demands, brushing past the pair brusquely. He’s tired; the last thing he wants is to blow a fuse at his team. They’ve all had a long two weeks.

And then he sees why.

She is there.

Morgan and Reid are now rushing over to welcome her back, but Hotch is too stunned to move, and he simply stands there staring. He watches as the boys hug her tight and kiss her on the cheek, Reid’s hug lingers longest. She’s smiling at them, he can see, but there’s something in her eyes that tells him that she’s not so sure about being home. Rossi is next to him, saying something he can only hear in mumbles. His mind is focused on her and only her, an almost overwhelming urge to step forward and hug her tight, much like the boys had done. The emotions he feels for the woman is unsettling to him – for a man with such a strong will, it’s only natural for him to be careful with his emotions.

But there’s something about Emily that he is so dangerously attracted to – something he finds he can’t get enough of. He knew from the very first taste, and Aaron Hotchner is a man that gets what he wants when he has eyes set for it.

Dave claps him on the shoulder with a chuckle. “Stop staring, Aaron, it’s impolite,” he quips before stepping forward to welcome Emily home as well.

That just leaves him.

Things fall silent, as if something in the cosmos has planned this, and the eyes of his team turn to him, expectant. Emily’s eyes fall on him almost reluctantly, but when they settle it’s an electric line of unspoken words and heated glances as he makes his way slowly over to her. Her teeth gnaw at her lower lip, as she does when she is nervous, and he stops three feet away from her. It’s too close, and too far at the same time, as Emily shifts nervously on her feet.

She offers him a polite smile, albeit strained. “It’s good to see you back, sir.” There is nothing hostile in the use of the title, only a resolution he’s not sure he wants there. She’s being friendly and polite; extending an olive branch that he so desperately wants to cling to.

“No,” he says quietly, offering her a small, warm smile that surprises the others. “It’s good to see _you_ back, Emily. Welcome home.” 

\------------

He does his best to reach out to her. She falls back into the team like she’s never left, but Morgan and Reid and Garcia all hover around her for the first week, as if they’re afraid she might up and disappear again. He can’t blame them – he’s been watching more too. But it seems that Emily has other plans about how much amiability they have with each other. She’s been avoiding group outings with the team, and while he himself hardly ever joins them; Emily used to jump at the opportunity to spend time with everyone outside of the office.

She denies him the most though.

Invitations to coffee or lunch are politely declined, paperwork often cited as the reason, but Hotch knows it’s a lie. She finishes her reports over lunch, and hands most of them in by the end of the day. She finishes them early and heads home on time; a surprise to all of them, because Emily has once rivaled Hotch in their overtime work. But that was all before she left.

Nowadays she finishes her reports early, leaves work on time, and keeps to herself when around the office. It doesn’t take a profiler to come to the conclusion that Emily now has someone waiting for her at home. It has a distinctly dark feeling roiling in his chest uncomfortably.

He should’ve seen it coming, he chides himself. She’s a beautiful woman, and he sees the changes in her – she glows like a lover, her body has changed to what he can only assume to be the affections of a man and the money and time he spends loving and feeding her. It’s all for the better, and it cannot be helped how much more beautiful she seems to him.

What also cannot be helped is the jealousy and rejection he feels, like a child being denied entrance into the secret clubhouse he helped build.

And so he avoids her for a little while, keeping their relationship mostly work related, as he thinks she wants him to. But then one day he stumbles upon JJ and Emily talking with Garcia in the kitchenette, and pauses just around the corner. He hears them talk about Emily; about how they too have been noticing her changes in behavior. Garcia teases her about having a man she’s hiding from them, but Emily denies her assumptions with a laugh, commenting on how it is almost impossible to find time to sleep, let alone date.

A glimmer of hope blooms in his chest, despite his reluctance to hope for that much. Just because she isn’t dating anyone doesn’t mean she’ll consider giving him the time of day. There are so many things to consider – fraternization rules, family members (on his side) and rumors around the office. These things should concern him, but Hotch is reluctant to admit that a part of him can’t seem to muster the energy to really be as concerned about those things as he should be.

By the time he has a plan in his mind, he walks around the corner to find Emily alone by the coffee pot, stirring her mug of caffeine contemplatively. He clears his throat softly and smiles apologetically when she jumps. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he tells her.

Emily nods at him, returning the smile half-heartedly as she brings her mug to her lips. She’s been trying to cut down on coffee since she’s had Mia, but she can’t help herself since she’s come home. She needs it; with the hours she’s pushing as well as getting up with Mia. While the three month old is learning to sleep through the night, she has also begun to learn how to wake up miserably early.

“How have you been?” he asks her conversationally, moving beside her to grab his own cup of coffee. He hasn’t had lunch, and breakfast was just a granola bar and more coffee. “I know it’s been a rather hectic few weeks, what with your return into the field.”

She smiles guardedly. “I’m doing well, sir. It’s like a riding a bike – you don’t forget.” She thinks he’s questioning her capabilities, but when she looks up at his face, she’s slightly surprised to find his face open and friendly. JJ’s words ring through her mind, chiding her for being so cruel, but she can’t help it. It’s her first instinct, and Emily fights to give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, it’s just been a long week,” she confesses.

And so he can see. She’s lost more weight since her return, and the circles under her eyes are even more prominent now, but for some reason, the glow hasn’t gone away. A part of him feels guilt at pushing her too fast; that somehow she’s pushing herself to the extremes because of him. That she wants to prove to him that she can still do her job.

“It’s alright,” he replies. “I was just – asking because you seem distracted lately.” He looks down at her in a mild concern, wondering if she’s lying to the girls and if there is a man waiting for her at home, and he’s not treating her as he should. “Is…everything alright?” he asks tentatively, unsure if she’ll take the inquiry as an affront. The last thing he wants is for her to shut down on him just because the green monster in him is no longer little nor subtle.

Emily nods a little too vigorously, and it only strengthens his doubts. As she looks up at his dubious face, JJ’s voice chimes in at the back of her head; _the longer you keep this from him, the higher the likelihood of things going downhill._ Perhaps it’s time, after months of hiding away from him and keeping Mia a secret; maybe it’s time she comes clean. She needs to do this before she loses her nerve.

“I was just wondering if you had dinner plans tonight,” she blurts, and stands there nervously as he blinks in surprise. Of course he’s surprised – she’s been avoiding him like a disease; the last thing he’d expect is a dinner invitation from her. But JJ’s voice prods at her again, and Emily casts a speaking look in his way. “We have…a lot of things to talk about.”

His heart is thudding in his chest once again, much like it had the day she returned. “Of course,” he says swiftly, before she can retract her invitation. This is what he’s been hoping for – an opportunity to talk to Emily, and tell her all the things he’s been dying to since he came home from Connecticut. “What did you have in mind?” he asks politely, hoping that his excitement doesn’t show in his voice as he steps just a fraction of an inch closer to her.

Suddenly Emily isn’t sure how to progress from there. She’s just invited him for dinner, but she can’t stay out late because the nanny is with Mia and she knows by the slowly rising pressure in her chest that she’ll probably have to nurse Mia and express as well. The last thing she wants is to leak over dinner. Biting her lip, Emily struggles to make a decision. “Um, why don’t you come over tonight? We could order in?” she suggests nervously.

He nods immediately. Of course, ordering in would be the best option. He doesn’t want distractions when they talk; he doesn’t think he’ll have the patience to handle distractions when he’s back where it all began. Memories of their night together are already flashing through his mind but he shakes them away as Emily starts to move away. “I just want to say that I really, really appreciate this, Emily. It’s been…awkward lately, and I apologize for that.”

Emily shakes her head and smiles wistfully. “We’ll talk about that later,” she says quietly, and moves off to finish her reports again.

He’s never been so excited about take-out food ever in his life.

\--------------

He arrives at her apartment building a little later than expected, having been called in by Strauss for a last minute ‘discussion’ about some things that have been bothering her. It leaves him in a foul mood by the time he’s standing in front of her red apartment door, staring at the same chipped eyehole he had months ago. Standing there, he takes a deep breath, willing the burgeoning headache away. He doesn’t want to walk in there angry. It’s the last thing he wants to do.

He knocks on the door, and waits.

There’s shuffling from the other side, and the lock is turned to reveal Emily, still dressed in her work clothes. He smiles at her apologetically, stepping into her apartment as she steps aside and gestures him in. “I’m sorry I’m late – Strauss’ meeting went on longer than expected.” He grimaces, and she returns it at the thought of sitting there and listening to their Section Chief go on and on about how they’re all incompetent fools who are spoilt by the Bureau because they’re an elite team.

“You must be starving,” she guesses, and she reveals the boxes of Chinese take-out on her kitchen counter. She watches with amusement and sympathy as his shoulders sag and a grateful smile splays across his handsome face as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it carefully beside hers. Ignoring how perfect it looks there, she hands him a carton. “I’ve gotten a bit of everything, so go crazy.”

He groans in relief as he opens a steaming carton of fried noodles. “You are a Godsend.” He shovels the first steaming bite into his mouth and barely even takes his time to chew. As far as he can remember, he hasn’t had a decent meal all day, and his fried noodles suddenly taste like the most delicious thing in the world.

Emily chuckles softly and moves towards the fridge; inconspicuously shoving a bottle of breast milk into the side pocket. “Can I get you a drink?” she asks him, taking out a bottle of water for herself. “Beer, maybe?”

He can’t talk with his mouth full, so hungry is he, that he sheepishly nods his thanks to her before swallowing his bite. “Please.” He puts the half-empty carton back onto the counter and brushes his hands along his thighs before accepting the cold bottle of Sam from her. He hates to come off as some sort of starved desert wanderer, so he sips his beer slowly. It’s killing him that eating is stalling their conversation, and Hotch can put off this talk no longer. Setting down his beer, he regards Emily seriously as she absentmindedly picks at the bottle cap of her water.

“Is it alright if we…talk now?”

Emily sucks in a sharp breath, but nods. “Sure, of course.” She’s been working up the nerve to get through this talk all night, and she prays hard that Mia stays down for her nap just a little bit longer. The thought of Mia announcing herself to her father is terrifying to Emily; not just because of Hotch’s reaction, but also the consequence of said reaction. She’s not ready to handle anger from the man, at all.

“Come, sit.” She gestures to the living room, where she gingerly seats herself in her armchair, watching nervously as Hotch moves to her couch. He sits on the edge; elbows perched on his knees as they stare at each other uncertainly. They’re both waiting for the other to start, and Emily can see that he’s just about to rack up the nerve to, but she thinks it’s best if she speaks, and he questions. She’s ready for that part, at least.

“I’m…sorry to hear about you and Haley. You were good together,” she tells him earnestly. And it’s the truth – she thought Hotch and Haley were sweet together, but she doesn’t blame Haley for signing for a divorce. With their kind of profession, it’s hard to keep a steady relationship with anyone, let alone start a family. Hotch had it lucky that he married young.

He smiles wistfully, tilting his head at her statement. “All good things come to an end, they say,” he replies sadly, but she can tell that some parts of him have already come to terms with it. She’s glad – the last thing she wants is for him to walk around with a cloud of guilt and darkness hanging over his head.

"She lets you see Jack?" The hope in her voice spreads warmth through his chest - his son is his entire world to him, and it somehow flatters him to know that Emily cares for a boy she's never met.

He nods. "Whenever I can," he tells her.

A relieved sigh escapes her lips, and she nods emphatically. "Good, that's great." She even spares him a wide, happy smile before she catches herself and resorts to a small smile again.

 “How was your consult with Interpol? They must’ve had a big case if they kept you for so long.” Hotch can’t help the bitterness in his voice at that; they kept her away from the rest of them for so long. He knows she was communicating with the others via e-mail whenever she was allowed, but whenever he called, their time was always limited to a bare minimum. There were so many things he wanted to talk to her about; about her, about them, about her coming home. But the moment he opened his mouth to address these things, the line was always cut. It’s only natural for him for harbor more than just a little bit of dislike towards Interpol.

Emily flushes slightly, a soft pink spreading over her neck up her face. She doesn’t want to lie, and technically she isn’t going to, but she can sense the apprehension he has about her departure and time away, and she doesn’t think it’s fair to have Interpol and Clyde take all the blame. “There were some things to settle with the Irish. It’s nothing we couldn’t handle,” she assures him. She doesn’t tell him about the assignment, or the reason why Clyde pulled her out of the task earlier than expected, but she thinks that perhaps it’s best if he doesn’t know.

The man nods slowly, deciding against pushing for detail because he doesn’t know how much or how far he can push her before Emily decides to shut back down on him. She’s already risking so much opening up to him now; he doesn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. “How’s your head?” he asks, frowning ever so slightly. His frown is mostly a chiding one, for having hide her ailment from him, but it’s mostly benign.

Reflexively Emily touches her forehead, brushing aside her dark hair as she shakes her head. “Fully functional,” she assures him once more. She has a wry smile on her red lips as she smiles at him, and Hotch feels the air in his chest leave him. “I’ve taken a two by four to the head and come back running, sir. Hardhead isn’t just an affectionate nickname, you know.”

They share a quiet laugh that slowly seeps off into an awkward silence, as they both struggle with all the things they want to say. He has so many things to ask, to confess, to proclaim; she has so many things to reveal, to explain, and to apologize for. They are a cacophony of thoughts intermingling on the same wavelength – complementary and asymmetrical at the same time. Finally Emily feels what can only be the sharp tip of JJ’s boot kicking into the side of her head, and she summons the largest handful of courage she can, and begins to confess her sins to the man sitting across her.

“I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly before. It was…a desperate time, and they called me in. I would’ve left you a message, or at least told you myself that I was leaving, but I thought it’d be best to leave you to your family for a little while. Please don’t hate JJ or Garcia for not telling you where I was. It really was confidential.”

Hotch nods at all this; this is something they’ve talked about before, when she was still in Europe. “I hold no grudge against any of you. I just…didn’t enjoy the idea of you being away for so long. When we talked that night – months ago, you were cut off suddenly by a man. Clyde was his name, yes?” The jealousy is already clear in his eyes and his voice. The fact that a man has been controlling Emily’s life does not sit well with him at all; especially if the man in question seems to be the type that dominates everything.

A surge of adrenaline flows into his veins and Hotch feels the anger well in his throat. He is possessive of a woman he hasn’t made his yet.

Aaron Hotchner, control yourself. This is Emily; she won’t appreciate this show of testosterone.

Emily makes a face at the memory, wincing as she remembers the Braxton Hicks her fight with Easter had induced about communicating verbally with her team. “He didn’t appreciate the idea of Garcia hacking into the database to get my number. He’s harmless, Hotch, he really is. It’s just that he’s known to be….” She chews on her lip, thinking of a better word than ‘pigheaded’. “Overprotective.”

He seems to accept that, though she can vaguely hear the growl in his throat. A part of her is tingling at the idea of a possessive Hotch storming into the room and sweeping her off her feet, while the other part of her is literally roiling at the thought of how explosive his temper might get.

“I want you to know that there is a reason why I’ve been away for so long.” Her palms are beginning to sweat; her breath speeds up against her will. Her heart pounds in her chest, welling so thickly in her throat that she almost cannot breathe at the amount of anxiety she feels about her decision. “But before I tell you, I want you to know that if I had any other choice – if these were any other circumstances -.”

He interrupts her by moving to her side, squatting by the armchair and laying his hand over hers soothingly. “What is it, Emily?” he asks gently, his dark hazel eyes searching her face. He hates seeing her so nervous, so scared of him, and he strokes her hand with his thumb in an effort of calming her. The heat of his hand spreads across her soft skin, and he sees her visibly relax. “Take your time, Emily. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her; swears it.

She casts a pained look at him. “Please don’t hate me for this.”

“I could never hate you if I wanted to,” he argues stubbornly.

Emily laughs; a quiet, self-deprecating sound. “You say that now, but believe me. You’ll never want to see my face ever again.” She sobers, inhaling deeply before she stands, taking his hand in hers. The way her slender hand fits in his larger, warmer one throws her a little; this is something she could’ve had, but Emily shuts down on the thought, and focuses on leading the man up the stairs, much like she had with JJ. Only this time, her legs almost give out on her because she’s so nervous.

Hotch is too curious to say anything, and follows obediently behind her. His gut tells him he should already know why she’s leading him upstairs, but his pounding heart and scattered brain tell him to just go with the flow – to see with his own eyes. They come to a white bedroom door, and Emily turns back to him uneasily. He swallows thickly, and nods his assent.

“Show me.”

The door is pushed open, and a nursery is revealed to him. He stands, stunned by the doorway as Emily walks to the white crib and lifts a wriggling form to her chest. She turns to him from the crib, staring at him with her wide dark eyes in an almost petrified stance. The baby paws at her chest, gurgling for its meal, and Hotch steps towards them in a trance. His hands are limp at his sides, like deadweight as Emily tentatively straightens the infant in her arms and exposes the most beautiful baby he’s ever seen in his life.

His jaw drops slightly, a gust of air escaping as he stares down in awe at the thick lashes and dark head of hair. Her wide curious eyes focus on his face; _his_ hazel brown eyes stare back at him as she breaks into a brilliant, gummy grin that reveals to him her dimples, and squeals.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Emily announces softly. “I’d like you to meet Mia. Mia Lorelai Prentiss.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. But The Room Is So Quiet, Oh

The words are caught in his throat. There are so many things running through his head that he thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe as he stares at the woman and infant in front of him. In his mind, there is nothing but blankness; nothing registering except _Mia has Jack’s eyes._

Mia…Mia Lorelai. The name combination sits comfortably in his chest. Mia, he knows is the Latin word for _mine_ , and somewhere at the back of his head, he thinks _she’s mine too_.

He stares at the woman, hurt and confusion clear in his dark eyes as he struggles to make sense of what she has told him. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs softly, staggering back slightly as he stares at her still. “This – is she – how – _why didn’t you tell me_?” That is all he wants to know – how she had the gall to keep his daughter from him with the full knowledge that the child really was, in fact, his.

Emily’s face falls, and over her comes the dread and fear as she sees in his face, the whirl of emotions that terrify her. Mia is held close to her chest, protectively. “You know why.”

“Why?” he demands, as he begins to pace the room. His strides are long and sharp, and Emily has to force herself to resist cowering at the sheer fury that radiates off the man. He casts an accusing glare in her direction. “We’ve been talking for months, Emily. _Months._ Had it never occurred to you to mention the fact that you were pregnant during those phone calls? Or the fact that the baby you were carry was _my_ child?” He’s not quite sure what he wants to do – to succumb to his anger and confront Emily, or give into his fatherly instincts and hold his baby girl – the daughter that has been kept from him for months as it is; he doesn’t know if he’ll let her go if he gets his hands on her.

“It was complicated,” Emily says with a calm she most certainly does not feel. Mia whimpers in her hold; barely four months old and already is her daughter perceptive of her surroundings. Emily’s maternal instincts take control, and she feels a surge of strength in her that wasn’t there before. “If you want to get mad and yell at me, we’ll do this downstairs.” She turns to put Mia back in her crib, but starts when Hotch is suddenly gripping her arm painfully tight in his hand.

“You’re hurting me!” she snaps, and Mia shrieks her displeasure, writhing in her mother’s arms wildly as she scrunches up her face and begins to cry. She doesn’t like this man; he makes her Mommy yell and the world seem really angry. Mia screams, hungry and afraid as the man stands looming in her vision.

Hotch releases her like he’s been stung, horror washing over his face as he realizes just what he’s done. He drops his hand away from Emily and Mia, swallowing thickly as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. “I’m – I’m sorry,” he stutters. “I didn’t mean to – I just – I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. Just – _please_.” He begs her; begs with his eyes and his face and his voice. “Don’t put her down. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her. Is she alright?”

He stares down in at Mia in concern, frowning guiltily as Emily brings the infant close to her chest and hushes her soothingly. His hand is curled into a fist by his side, clenched so tight it shakes. He cannot believe he’s just laid a hand on a woman – on Emily! He can’t think straight; he just wants to know why she’s kept this from him for so long. The realization of having another child – a beautiful little daughter is still hard for him to absorb, but he wills his pounding heart to calm, and he waits silently as Emily brushes past him down the steps, and follows carefully.

She sits on the couch, shifting into a comfortable position as she lays Mia on her chest and waits for Hotch to join her. When he does nothing but stand there, staring, she glances pointedly towards the armchair, and the man seats himself hurriedly. The pressure of Mia on her chest gives her the strength to face the man; she has a child to think of now, and to protect. She will not let a man’s rage scare her. Her decisions were made for both of their benefits, whether he chooses to accept them or not.

“I understand that you’re upset with me,” she begins calmly, keeping her voice slow and level to avoid startling Mia more. “But you need to keep your voice down. Mia’s tiny, but she probably knows more than you and I put together. So keep things civil.” She casts a speaking look to him; these terms are something she takes seriously, and there are consequences if he chooses to ignore them.

He nods curtly; as much as he wants his answers, he will not get them at the risk of upsetting his daughter. So he lets Emily take control, and cannot help but hold a longing gaze at the infant in her arms as Mia squirms and fusses against her chest. He tries for the simpler questions. “How old is she?”

Emily shifts Mia, letting the baby rest in the crook of her elbow as Mia gnaws on her tiny fist. She’s probably hungry, but she’ll have to wait for Mommy to answer some of her father’s questions. “Three and a half months. She was born here in Virginia,” Emily tells him. “I came home in my eight month and delivered her here. I wanted her home.” She wanted to be home for the delivery of her daughter; in the place she feels the safest.

“You were on duty while you were pregnant?” He is horrified at the thought.

“Of course not,” she replies hotly, indignant at the implications. Her dark brows pinch together as she frowns at him reproachfully, her lips in a taut line. “I was eight weeks along when I found out I was pregnant. The moment I found out, I told my handler; I pulled out at five months and opted for office consults instead. Completely safe – completely away from anything that could possibly threaten us.”

She says all this, but she doesn’t tell him about the scare at four months – when their assignment had been compromised, and blows were taken. She doesn’t mention the fact that she was beaten so hard, she was almost certain the baby had been lost, and it’s only by the grace of God and her own stubborn body that keeps Mia alive in her womb. All this, she keeps to herself, because it is her burden to know; not his.

The idea of Emily running around with Interpol on undercover missions does not sit well with Hotch, as his own brows pull together in a severe frown. A flurry of scenarios of her mission failing flashes through his mind. All end badly with Emily being hurt, or the baby being harmed in some way. But he pushes those thoughts aside; they are home, and they are safe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmurs, voice almost flat as he tries to school his emotions and thoughts away from images of _what if_ Emily had come home earlier, and he had found out sooner. He fails though, and his voice comes out thick. “It’s not like you couldn’t reach me within that time, Emily. I tried to talk to you as much as I was capable.”

Emily flinches inwardly – she’s been expecting this argument from him. It’s something she’s been anticipating since she delivered Mia, and held her newborn daughter in her arms, alone in her hospital bed. She’s been practicing the answer, but now as she faces the pained look on the man’s face, she finds all of her long-rehearsed explanations flying out the window.

“It would’ve made things worse,” she begins slowly, eyes watching his face closely. “I told you to fight for Haley and Jack – it would’ve completely negated everything if I were to show up to work one day, five months pregnant with you _knowing_ you were the father. What would Haley say then? Your separation would’ve been Hell if I had stayed and told you. You might not even be able to see Jack right now, had I have stayed.”

This is all true – neither of them can imagine how much more resentful Haley would be of Hotch; of Emily, had she found out her husband had slept with his subordinate. They can’t stomach the thought of Haley possibly using Mia against Hotch in court to gain full custody of their son. That is something Emily cannot live with on her conscience.

He hates that she makes sense. He hates knowing that what she says is true, and that he would have had a painfully long divorce with Haley if the news of Emily carrying his child had spread through the Bureau. Not only would that have jeopardized his personal life; it would’ve completely challenged both their professional lives as well. Strauss doesn’t need more ammo on them both, and he’s thankful she doesn’t have any.

He knows he should be far more relieved than he is, but he can’t help himself. He’s so tired of caring about what other people think about him – about Strauss hovering over every decision he makes. His personal life is none of her business and none of the Bureau’s as well. Even if Emily is a subordinate – there are loopholes there they can work with. He was a prosecutor, after all. He knows his way around things.

“Those are not your battles to fight,” he counters adamantly. “You’re not supposed to fight them alone, at least. I was a very willing participant in Mia’s conception. I would’ve taken full responsibility of the consequences, regardless of what Strauss and Haley thought.” His lips purse, his eyes darken as he prepares himself to tell her what he’s been trying to since he asked her to dinner, and she had basically rejected him.

“The night I asked you to dinner, I wanted to talk to you because I was going to ask Haley for a divorce.” His declaration stuns Emily speechless, as she sits there and gapes at him as he continues. “Things hadn’t been alright in a long while, and I was ready to give her an uncontested divorce – it was better for both our sakes. We weren’t happy anymore, and I didn’t see reason in prolonging the suffering my job seemed to be putting on Haley. I figured it would make things easier – she would no longer need to resent the BAU and we could all move on with our lives.”

Emily pauses for a moment and takes time to consider the reasons behind his divorce. She’s happy he and Haley are no longer at odds with each other, and she’s happy things ended peacefully. But then her brain clicks at his reason for asking her to dinner, and the implications it held for them both.

“You can move on without me,” she insists vehemently. “You hated me when I was first assigned to the team. You didn’t _like_ me when I resigned. You tolerated me, sure, but I was just something…there!” She shakes her head, refusing to believe what he is telling her.

“You _don’t_ want me. You think you do, but you don’t.”

The steel assurance in her eyes and voice throws Hotch off balance. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he definitely didn’t expect Emily to be so stubborn about it. “And why wouldn’t I?” he questions her now. “I didn’t hate you, Emily. I was suspicious of the circumstances that you were placed on my team, yes, but I’ve never regretted the decision.” He shakes his head, giving her a look that tells her he cannot understand why she doesn’t believe him. “You are an outstanding agent and a brilliant profiler. Things may have been rocky at best to begin with, but you are as important to the team as all of us are.”

“That doesn’t give you reason to want me,” she denies, knee jittering slightly as she fights off the anxiety of knowing what he’ll say next. “We had a one night stand; things happen. It was on a whim – I’m not asking you to suddenly take responsibility for everything. You don’t have to tell me this just because we have a child together now.”

His eyes soften slightly as he stares at her, and Emily hates herself when she feels her walls faltering at the sight. “I’m not a man who does things on a whim. What happened that night, and what it created -,” he gestures to Mia, whose eyes are drooping shut as she sucks sleepily on her knuckle. “They are not dirty little secrets to keep behind closed doors. You are not a mistress to a married man; you are the mother of my child, and even if you aren’t, I would still want to spend more time with you.”

“I had sex with a married man!” she counters. “That’s all they’re going to see. You were still _married_ when we slept together, Hotch. What matters to people is that Mia was conceived before your divorce, not that she was born after. In their eyes, Hotch, you’re the cheating spouse, I’m the home wrecker and Mia is the bastard child we had!”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he thunders in frustration. His temple pounds with the burgeoning migraine, and he curls his hands in fists on his thighs. “Am I supposed to just pretend that night never happened, and that Mia isn’t my daughter too? Am I supposed to just _abandon_ you to support her by yourself and raise her to believe that her father doesn’t want her?”

Mia jolts in fright at the sound of his snarl, her wide dark eyes snapping open before her face crumbles into an unhappy maw. She screeches in her mother’s arms, back arched and limbs taut. The baby’s wailing is like a bucket of cold water dousing them; painfully sobering and sharp.

Emily lifts Mia by her underarms and drapes the sobbing infant over her shoulder, glaring at Hotch bitterly. “I told you to keep your voice down,” she hisses at him, glowering as she strokes the clothed back of her hiccupping daughter. She stands abruptly, jolting Mia from her sniffling as she moves towards the kitchen to heat Mia’s bottle. Nursing Mia is something intimate and private between mother and daughter, but she’s not going to deny Mia her dinner just because Mommy’s feeling shy.

The bottle of expressed breast milk is placed in a pot of water, and Emily balances Mia with one arm while she keeps the bottle on a constant rotation in the simmering water. She takes the time away from the man to collect her thoughts; she bounces Mia on her arm as the baby hums and whines against her shoulder. Her dress shirt is damp now, a combination of Mia’s tears and the baby’s gnawing on the bony joint of her shoulder, but Emily doesn’t care.

She’s too busy trying to make sure the bottle is warm enough while her mind is scrambling through all her anger and fear and indecision about dissuading her Unit Chief from pushing the issue of their relationship any further. She can’t do this – she shouldn’t give in to this just because he’s the man she has once had dreams of. This isn’t how things are supposed to play out – he’s supposed to hate her; to never want to look at Mia and to never have the baby ever be acknowledged as his child. All of those things, she can handle. Emily is not prepared to handle this man sitting in front of her.

Her plans are usually all executed to a tee; she’s not used to having her plans be compromised by a flaw in her profile. Hotch wasn’t supposed to know until Mia is at least a year old, and she had it all planned out. But yet again, Fate has other plans. It catches her off guard, and Emily’s fight or flight instincts are screaming in her head.

She can hear his shoes against the floor, moving towards them. The quiet intonation of his voice in the silent kitchen startles both her and Mia.

“You can’t keep running away from me, Emily,” he murmurs wearily. He’s completely out of place in her kitchen – much like the day he came to her apartment and talked her into coming back to the BAU with him. In such unfamiliar surroundings, he is standing subdued and unsure of himself as he stares at the baby peering over her shoulder longingly. “How much farther are you going to push me?”

Emily sighs heavily, exhaustion overcoming her suddenly. She’s had a long day; Mia wakes painfully early, and Emily can already feel the headache pounding at the back of her head. There is no way she is going to get through this night without bloodshed. “Can you please just drop this for now? I’m tired, Hotch, it’s been a long day for me, and I can’t find the energy to argue with you anymore.” She shifts Mia on her shoulder and turns the fire off, lifting the bottle from the pot and gripping the just-too-warm bottle in her hand. The heat on her palm stings, but she grips the bottle tighter.

The man hesitates; he wants an answer, but he can see the toll it has taken on Emily. He doesn’t want to push anymore either – this conversation is going nowhere with both of them fighting for the reigning title of stubborn mule, so he concedes with a reluctant nod. He watches Emily struggle to hold Mia and the bottle while grabbing the burping towel from the counter and moving the hot pot of water to the sink, and throws caution to the wind for one last time for the night.

“May I…hold her?”

The tentative, uncertain quality to his voice is coupled with an apologetic undertone; he wants to compensate by helping her. Emily hesitates, but knows she cannot safely hold the wriggling baby while maneuvering everything else, so she allows it. She is aware that he wants to hold his daughter, and steps aside to allow him space between her and the stove.

He moves swiftly to her side and carefully extracts Mia from her shoulder with the practiced ease of a father. He casts a grateful look in Emily’s direction before nestling Mia in the crook of his arm. Mia fusses a little, flailing her fist about, but is surprisingly calm in his hold as she stares up at his face in wide eyed wonder. He’s not so bad when he’s not making Mommy angry; he’s warm and cuddly, and smells nice.

Hotch stares down at Mia’s fascinated face with an amazed smile; she’s even more beautiful and perfect up close. His chest swells with an adoring pride as he holds his daughter, the bright eyed baby staring back at him with eyes lined with her mother’s lashes. “Hello, Mia,” he whispers to her softly, bouncing her gently as she coos at the sound of his voice. “I’m…I’m your father.”

 Emily watches as the man cradles their child in his arms, softening at the way he stares down at Mia so lovingly and speaks to her so quietly. She worries away at her nails as he smiles and croons at the baby; the bottle of milk is still warm in her hands. Relief washes over her as she sees the acceptance of Mia as his child; the worst that she’s been dreading is over, but now comes the difficult task of settling their relationship.

“Do you want to feed her?” She holds out the bottle, motioning it towards him encouragingly when Hotch stops cooing at Mia and eyes her carefully. It’s a peace offering between them; a truce to be called for now. She has entrusted him their child – there isn’t much she has left to lose.

Slowly he reaches for the bottle, wrapping his hand around it and just barely brushing against her thin fingers as she releases the bottle to him. His eyes never leave Emily’s face, an understanding in his hazel eyes when she lowers her own gaze. “Thank you,” he utters warmly, and he watches as she nods at him before moving off to clean up the take-out leftovers. Mia wriggles eagerly in his hold when she sees the bottle, squealing happily as he chuckles at her.

“You must be pretty hungry, huh?” He lowers the bottle to her mouth; a dimple peeks out from her chubby cheek as she greedily takes the nipple in her mouth and suckles hungrily. She drinks fast and spills around the nipple, and Emily appears beside him to wipe the spill with the nursing towel. He looks up at her, a smile still on his face, one that dims to a small show of his dimples when she returns it wanly.

Emily slides the towel into his hand, gesturing to the stairs. “You can take her up to her room and feed her in the rocking chair. It’ll be easier to get her off to sleep when she’s being rocked,” she tells him. She stands in the kitchen and watches as he makes his way slowly up the stairs, careful not to jostle Mia in his arms, talking to her all the while. The moment his feet disappear from sight, Emily’s shoulders sag and she lowers her head to the cold surface of her counter top.

The tears burn hot against her skin as she weeps.


	9. It's A Conversation I Can't Have Tonight

Sitting alone with Mia in her nursery, Hotch takes the opportunity to really absorb the fact that this beautiful little baby in his arms is really his daughter. She is so much like Emily, that without his serious frown and dark hazel eyes, Mia is a carbon copy of her mother. She’s such a happy, contented baby; so mobile at such a young age, the way she wriggles and coos at him as she sucks on the bottle. Her appetite is voracious, but she's still smaller than Jack when he was her age. Hotch suspects she was delivered pre-term, though not by much. Perhaps she's just a skinny baby by nature.

It wouldn't surprise him if she is. Emily is a tall, slender woman, and with both his stature and her mother's put together, Hotch guesses Mia's going to be as tall as they are.

"And as pretty as your mother too," he adds out loud, smiling at the jerk of Mia's head when she hears his voice. His stomach warms at the knowledge that his daughter reacts to him so strongly, even though he hasn't been in her life for very long at all. "That's right, sweetheart. You're going to be as tall and beautiful and smart as her. Of course, you realize this means you'll only start dating boys when you're 30," he tells her mock seriously, chuckling as she stops sucking and tilts her head at him curiously.

What is dating, and what are boys? She doesn’t care for these things, but he blabbers on, like Mommy does sometimes. But at least with Mommy, she can make her bored face and Mommy will put her to bed with her dancing pictures. She tries anyway.

“Don’t look at me like that, young lady, you are much too young to start rolling your eyes at me,” he chides her teasingly, when he sees an expression on Mia’s face that’s scarily similar to Emily’s flat look. He can't imagine what it'll be like when Mia hits puberty and starts taking interest in boys (or girls, if she wishes). No doubt he'll have to sit up with her potential suitors with his gun and badge casually in sight.

That is, of course, if he _is_ around Mia by the time she is a teenager.

The thought stops him rocking Mia as he frowns deeply. _Will_ he be around? He hasn’t come to an agreement with Emily about where he stands with their child; who is he to say that he’ll even see her tomorrow? The thought terrifies him truly – his father was an absent parent; the only time Tyson Boyd Hotchner ever spent time with his sons was when he was disciplining them. Hotch swore after the birth of his son that he will never put work over his family, or ever lay a hand on his children. But what happens now that the decision is taken out of his hands? What will happen if Emily decides that she wants to keep Mia away from him, and the others?

Mia’s little outcry shakes him from his reverie, shoving the bottle aside with her hands as she coos and garbles baby-talk at him. He blinks, pushing the thoughts aside as he wipes the milk trail on Mia’s chin and drapes her comfortably over his shoulder. His large hand rubs and pats at her back as he rocks the chair, coaxing a loud belch from Mia before laying her back down on his knees, cradling her in his forearms.

“You are a very lucky girl to have Emily as your mother.” His voice is pained as he speaks, and tears well in his eyes as he stares down at the drowsy baby. “She’s done such a wonderful job with you on her own; I know that you will grow up to be a strong, wonderful woman just like her,” he affirms softly, conviction clear in his eyes. “I want you to know that your father loves you very, very much, and he will do _anything_ to be with you – anything at all.” He bends to place a loving kiss on her forehead, and Mia’s curious hand comes up to touch his cheek. The scent of her baby fine hair reminds him of Jack, and Hotch pulls Mia to his chest, holding the baby close as he rocks her to sleep.

“If only your mother would give him the chance to.”

\----------

Emily stands outside Mia’s nursery door, biting down on her lower lip to smother the lump of emotions in her throat. She has just listened to Hotch telling their daughter how much he loves her, and his unhesitating decision to do whatever it takes to be a father to Mia; _she_ is the only thing standing in his way. Guilt sits heavy in her chest, knowing that it is because of her own hesitation and fear that Mia cannot have her father around as much as he wants to be, but Emily is certain that her decision is for the best.

She turns and walks back down the stairs, as quiet as possible. These decisions will be for the best in the long run, she’s sure of it.

Now if only she can convince her conscience the same thing.

He creeps down the stairs a little while later; she has coffee brewed but is nursing her mug of green tea when he steps into the kitchen. A quick look his way tells him that the coffee is for him, and Hotch murmurs a quick thank you before pouring himself a cup. “Mia’s down for the count,” he tells her. “She went out like a light after her bottle in the chair. You were right – took me five minutes rocking her before she was drooling on my shoulder.” He smiles affectionately as he tilts his shoulder slightly to show her the damp spot on the cloth over his broad shoulder.

The corners of Emily’s mouth tilt up briefly, but she remains quiet and contemplative as she sips her tea. Too much caffeine makes both her and Mia jittery and irritable; Emily’s lost enough sleep without a temperamental infant screaming the apartment down as it is. She casts her weary eyes over to the man, the corners creased in a smile over her mug rim. The excitement radiating off him make her feel even guiltier about her decision, but she sticks by it. He doesn’t love her; he loves the idea of her.

“I can only hope she stays down till morning,” she groans, tilting her neck to stretch out a crick. This is the third day in a row that Mia’s woken ridiculously early, after waking several times to feed. Most times, Emily just lets her fall asleep on her chest, in hopes that while Mia nurses herself to sleep, and she can catch a few winks as well. She usually awakens to the feeling of Mia pawing greedily at her chest; a bottomless hole of coos and gurgles.

Hotch frowns slightly, eyeing her tired face worriedly as he places his mug back onto the counter. “Have you had trouble with Mia?” He knows how exhausting it is to wake at odd hours of the night with the baby; he had his share of sleepless nights when Jack was a baby. However, he had Haley taking point too, and they switched between each other to ensure that they both had a least three hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Emily has no one to help her.

“I could help you watch her, if you like,” he offers impulsively, though his mind reproaches him for making such a suggestion. They’d agreed not to push the topic, and yet he is inserting himself more into her and Mia’s lives. It’s only going to make her shut off more, the voice in his head chimes.

As expected, Emily tenses, and steels over as she shakes her head. “We’re fine,” she responds coolly, waving aside his earnest gaze and offer. She doesn’t need his help; she knows he’s offering because he cares, but she doesn’t want to rely on him. She doesn’t want to realize the fact that things would be so much easier with him around. Instead she focuses on his priorities to his family – it’s a distraction away from her and Mia.

“It’s ten thirty on a Friday night. Should you be home with Jack?” She questions, knowing fully that the mention of Hotch’s firstborn will divert his attention back to what is most important. “We’re home for the weekend; I’m assuming Haley let you have him for the weekend?”

Hotch purses his lips at her inquiry, seeing clear through her intentions. He’s a skilled profiler, after all. He knows when people are being evasive, and he knows it particularly well with Emily. She’s been evading his questions ever since the day he got Garcia to track her down. But the mention of his ex-wife’s name does bring up thoughts in his mind that puts everything else at a screeching halt.

“I’m picking him up tomorrow,” he intones simply; his mind is frantic with thought. How is he going to maneuver around this? He can’t, and that is the problem. He can’t forgo this responsibility, no matter how predictably of an uproar it will cause. How will she react? What will she do to punish him? Will the spite come back in tenfold and cost him his son?

He is terrified at the answers, but he knows he has to find out.

“After…I talk to Haley,” he pauses. “…About us.”


	10. Tell Me What You Want Me To Say

The apartment is silent, save for the soft static crackle of Mia’s baby monitor sitting on the counter between them. Hotch shifts awkwardly beneath Emily’s wide eyed gaze, the woman’s staggered expression serving only to make him feel even more out of place. Has he misspoken?

“It only seems fair,” he attempts to explain to her. “If – if I’m going to spend time with Jack and Mia, Haley should know who Mia is. It’ll only make things worse if she finds out through the grapevine.” If Haley finds out by her own methods, he knows for sure that things will be messy. He’s not ashamed of Mia or Emily; he is merely disappointed at the circumstances.

Emily’s brows narrow; her face is suspicious and distrustful as she considers what he is saying. Telling Haley will be relevant to opening a can of worms and fastening it to a rotating sprinkler for her, Hotch should know that. But she looks at his face, and realizes that he doesn’t see that – all he sees is him spending time with Mia. “Fair,” she echoes, voice flat. Something behind her eyes shuts down, and she turns away from him to put her mug in the sink. “Fair to whom, Hotch? Is it fair to Haley, because I slept with her husband? Is it fair to me, as some sort of repentance?”

She turns to him with a mild sneer on her face. “Or it is fair to you, because you want to be able to see both of your kids without being judged by everyone else as the cheating husband with a family on the side?” Her tone is vicious and snide; the thought of facing Haley has her reacting in the only way she knows how – by pushing people away.

Hotch’s temper flares indignantly at her insinuations. “Why are you making me out as the villain here, Emily? Why are you fighting me like this?” he demands hotly, dark glaring meeting hers in a mutual glare of heat. There’s something in her glare, behind her heated arguments, but she clamps down on it before he has the chance to identify it. “I only want what’s best for _all of us._ How am I selfish in that manner?”

“Because it _is_ selfish,” she ripostes. “How do you think Haley’s going to react? Do you think she’s just going to accept the fact that her ex-husband now has an illegitimate child that was conceived from a one night stand that happened while she was still legally his wife? Don’t you think she’s going to lose her damn mind about this, and punish us for this? Don’t you think she’ll take Jack away from you when she finds out? She’ll probably hunt me down and shoot me in the face with your gun.”

There’s something about the way she says all this, something about the look on her face that suddenly everything clicks together like a jigsaw puzzle in Hotch’s head. He sees clearly now, why she’s doing what she is doing; he sees through it pristine glass. “You don’t trust me, do you,” he murmurs quietly, and Emily blinks, recoiling. “That’s why you’re doing this. You don’t trust me to protect you from the rumors, from Haley. You don’t trust me to support you with Mia, so you do what you think is best – you push and you push, hoping that I turn around and walk back from the direction I came from.”

Emily stares at him in an indignant silence, fuming but speechless as he tells her exactly what she’s been doing;being the profiler that he is. She folds her arms, a classic defensive stance, but she doesn’t care. He’s profiling her and making assumptions, accurate assumptions they may be, but it throws her, and she doesn’t like it. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” she retorts coldly.

“Don’t I?” he challenges her firmly, knowing as well as she does that he has made his observations accurately – he was not guessing, he never guesses. Hotch knows, and they both know he knows. “You keep people at a distance because you’re afraid of trusting them; of letting them know who you really are. You do what you think protects them, even when they want otherwise. It’s what you’ve learned from travelling so much as a child – the people you’ve trusted have only disappointed you, so why even bother anymore? You’d rather be alone than hurt again.”

Hurt stings her chest, and Emily is mildly impressed by his profiling skills. He is the Unit Chief of the prestigious BAU, after all. He should be good at what he does. She shrugs indifferently, but her eyes are clear and bright.

“Can you blame me?” Her voice wavers, but she still stands defiantly in front of him. She’s been alone all her life; she’s not used to having someone there to rely on. She doesn’t know how to lean on him, even if she wants to. “There really haven’t been many people around that I can trust, Hotch. I thought I could trust Strauss,” she laughs sardonically at the thought now. “And that just put me through a whole lot of bullshit, didn’t it?”

“You can trust me,” he promises her assertively **.** She’s always been able to trust him, even though he hasn’t shown it. He wants her to be able to trust him now; to keep her and Mia safe from the rumors and the backlash that will almost definitely happen once the rest of the team and the world become aware of Mia’s existence. Carefully he approaches her, reaching out to touch Emily’s arm as she steps back warily. She doesn’t like people in her personal space, and certainly not him, but he doesn’t give her a chance to deny him as he wraps a hand around her arm – gently this time – and steps closer. ****

He pulls her to him, holding her to his chest while she resists by pushing at his chest stubbornly. He is unrelenting in his grasps though, and when she reluctantly succumbs to his hold, and he feels her sag into his chest, he lowers his mouth to her ear. “You can trust me to keep you safe, Emily. I don’t understand why you don’t. But if I have to prove to you that you can, I will. You don’t have to do this alone,” he proclaims surely, running a large hand over her back as her hands curl into fists in his shirt. ****

Emily wants to cry into his chest, so safe and warm she feels wrapped in his strong arms, but she’s cried herself out for the night, and settles for a resigned sigh. The scent of his aftershave mingles with the maleness that is _him_ ; the scents she remembers from when he was pinned to her and battering her against the wall. Warnings go off in her head at their proximity, that she shouldn’t be doing this lest she risks starting something she can’t handle. But she’s exhausted, and all she wants to do is just have someone else be the strong one for once. Her voice is muffled against his chest when she speaks again. “What are you going to tell Haley?”

Hotch is silent for a long moment, simply holding her in his arms and running his hands soothingly over her back before he sighs quietly into her hair.

“The truth, I guess.” ****

\-------------

The next morning, Hotch wakes up with a heavy anxiety in his chest. He almost doesn’t want to get out bed; all he wants to do is turn off his phone and lie in bed all day rather than do what he has to do. But he knows he has to; if not to see his precious little boy, it’s to finish things he promised he would. So he drags himself out of bed, brushes his teeth with a cloud of doom over his head that lingers with him as he makes his morning coffee and steals a bowl of cereal from his emergency stash of Jack’s Lucky Charms.

The cereal roils in his stomach on the drive over, but he doesn’t have time to linger on it as he pulls up in the driveway.

“Hey, you’re early,” Haley comments as she greets him at the doorway of their formerly shared home, gesturing him inside as he greets her with a somber smile. She frowns at him worriedly. “Is everything alright? Was it a case?” She asks this as she always used to ask, and as usual, he shakes his head. But this time around, she doesn’t feel bitter about being kept out of the loop; she simply feels concern about him.

Jack comes running out from the living room, screaming in delight at the sight of his father, and Haley loses the opportunity to ask Aaron again if something is bothering him. She smiles though at the sight of the look on his face as he lifts Jack into his arms and hugs him close, glad that Aaron has the weekend home to spend time with Jack. It does them both good; Jack sleeps better when he’s seen Daddy, and Aaron smiles easier after seeing his son.

“Daddy, you’re early!” the almost three year old squeals from his father’s arms, wrapping his little arms tight around Hotch’s neck as he buries his head into his father’s shoulder. “I missed you!”

Hotch’s face softens at the adorable announcement, and he hugs Jack tight. A part of him yells at him not to tell Haley just yet, or at all; he might risk losing this perfect little boy. But he knows if he doesn’t, he might lose both of his children, and he abhors the thought. “I’ve missed you too, buddy. So are you all ready and packed for the weekend?” he asks the boy, tickling him across his stomach while Jack wriggles and squeals in delight.

“Yeth, Daddy.” His lisp is as adorable as his little dimples as he grins giddily at his father. He’s the spitting image of Hotch, except for his sandy hair and smile; both come from Haley, but when Jack frowns, he’s purely Aaron Hotchner. “Are we going the park today?” The week before, Daddy promised him they’ll go see the ducks at the park near his apartment and feed them if Daddy was in town. And Daddy’s in town! “I want chocolate ice cream!”

Both Haley and Hotch smile at their son’s excitement, sharing an internal relief at the knowledge that their separated family hasn’t done any permanent damage to their little boy. Jack’s growing up so fast; his birthday is in a month’s time, and he will be three – a reminder to Hotch, just how long it’s been since he separated from Haley. A year is a long time, and many things have happened since.

Things he has yet to speak to Haley about.

“We’ll definitely get ice-cream later, buddy,” he assures his son, lowering Jack back to his feet. “But right now, I want to talk to Mommy just for a little bit, okay? So why don’t you go play with your toys for a little bit longer.” Jack glances between him and Haley, remarkably aware of things, but obeys. As he scampers off, Hotch turns to Haley seriously and gestures towards the kitchen.

“We need to talk about some things.”

Haley eyes him carefully, walking into the kitchen slowly. She offers to get him a drink, but he declines, and Haley knows by the look on his face that what he’s about to tell her is something big. “Aaron, what’s wrong?” she asks him this the moment he seats himself beside her at the breakfast roundtable. Her hazel grey eyes track his face anxiously, fear gnawing at her insides as he looks down at his tented fingers seriously.

Hotch inhales heavily, and finally raises his gaze to meet her worried one. “I’ve tried my best to keep work away from home, and home away from work, because I thought it was for the best. I never meant to shut you out like I did, and I am sorry for that.” Haley nods slowly at this, eyeing him warily still. What was he going to tell her?

“But what I am about to tell is my responsibility, and I need you to understand that what happened does not reflect upon our family, or what happened to our marriage. It was not a direct result of our marriage not working out; it had nothing to do with you, or our son, not to any extent. It was not a mistake, but neither were you or our marriage.”

Things start to click together about what he’s trying to say, and Haley stares at him incredulously. “I’m – I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Aaron. Are you trying to tell me you were having an affair? That there was…someone else?” she says slowly. There is an almost guilty look on his face, but it’s fleeting. “Are you?” she demands, suddenly indignant.

His face turns stricken at her accusatory tone. “It’s nothing like that,” he says heatedly. She’s often more perceptive than he gives her credit for, and just like that, he knows that she is aware of the direction that this conversation is taking. “It was a onetime thing.”

“That’s what they all say,” she retorts wryly, nearly rolling her eyes at him.

Hotch sighs inwardly. Perhaps he should try a different method, as he can already see this conversation going dangerously downhill from here. “What I meant,” he begins carefully. “Is that I did not have an affair with anyone when we were married. I was loyal to the day we agreed to separate. What happened that night was a one night of lapsed judgment.”

She is quiet for a moment; the kind of quiet that bothers men. She speaks, finally. “So you didn’t have a relationship with her before, while we were still….” Her voice trails off; a part of her doesn’t want to say it out loud – she wants to stay in the fantasy of not knowing.

“No,” he manages, his shoulders sagging in visible relief before tensing again as he prepares to tell her the rest of the story. “But there are consequences of what happened that night.” The statement lingers in the air between them; so many implications and not enough answers to them all. They are quiet for another moment, nothing but the sound of Jack’s cartoons playing in the living room. Haley breaks the silence then with just one word.

“How?”

He’s definitely certain that she’s not asking him for a play-by-play of that specific night, but he’s not really sure of what she’s asking either. She continues then.

“How could you do this?” Her tone isn’t accusing, mind; she’s not blaming him – she just sounds weary, if a little disbelieving. Haley is suddenly tired; she doesn’t know how to react to this, if she should react at all. They’re divorced now, and have been for almost a year; she doesn’t understand why he’s telling her all this now. If she was a few years younger – if she was feeling angrier about this, she would’ve given him a resounding slap. But she isn’t, but she doesn’t know what to think either.

It’s just a lot to take in at this point.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he hopes his tone is somewhat placating, and but he doesn’t want to be patronizing. “As I said, I really didn’t intend for anything to happen.” He really didn’t; he had gone to Emily’s place truly to check on his wounded Agent, in hopes of distracting himself from the turmoil that was his home life. To be honest, he doesn’t actually know what happened that night or how things ended up the way they did. He just knows that it happened, and he doesn’t regret it.

There’s a small, bitter smile on his ex-wife’s lips, as she sits beside him and fusses with the pale pink polish of her nails. “I know,” Haley responds wearily. “But when it happened, did you think of us? Even though you knew our marriage was falling apart; did you think of us when you were with her?” She closes her eyes momentarily, lifting a hand to her temple. Many thoughts run across her mind about what he’s telling her; mostly thoughts of anger and betrayal and spite, but she cannot seem to muster the energy to get angry at him. Not anymore.

“Aaron…” A migraine spreads across her temples. “Did we cross your mind at all? I know that you probably didn’t mean to, and I don’t know who you had this fling with, but I know that she wasn’t entirely to blame. Or you, but -.” She stops, and shakes her head to clear her mind. “I’m rambling. But - did you think of us?” she repeats.

“It’s not….” he tries to say, but he falls silent. All of his thoughts and explanations have flown out the window, leaving him utterly defenseless against Haley’s questions. “I just….”

“You didn’t, did you?” she manages, and it resonates sharply in the room. “I’m not trying to guilt trip you, Aaron, but you should have. You should’ve thought about us before you did something as reckless as that. Even if it wasn’t a mistake to you; even if you do have feelings for her.” The words are like bile in her throat. “It’s just… how could you have been so selfish?”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. Haley rounds on him slowly, disappointment in her eyes. “Aaron….” She says his name like a mother reproaching a child. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He stops and stares at her, the words caught in a tangled mess in his throat as he struggles to force them out. It’s now or never. “I’m telling you this…because we have a child together.”

“You’re telling me this because of Jack?” she frowns.

“No,” he rectifies slowly, summoning the courage to look her in the eyes as the next sentence leaves his mouth. “I meant that _Emily_ and I now have…a child together.”


	11. You Can't Choose What Stays & What Fades Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch comes clean to Haley about Mia and Emily...to surprising consequences.

"Emily."

" _Yes."_

"Emily…Prentiss. That new brunette agent of yours we met at the bar." She's not sure she's heard correctly, but apparently she has, if the look on his face is anything to read things by. She remembers Emily as the tall, beautiful brunette from his team with the skin to die for. Emily seemed like a decent woman then, and she most likely still is; Haley presumes her innocent for now.

"… _yes."_ Hotch finds himself bothered by the look on his ex-wife's face – he didn't know Haley's hazel grey eyes could actually gleam so bright. As a profiler, he is intimately familiar with the signs of a psychotic break, and he wonders warily if he's witnessing one now.

"Mmm hmm," Haley hums, her smile wide and bright as she gets off her seat and paces the kitchen, pulling out a juice box from the fridge and packing it into Jack's little lunchbox together with a peanut butter and chocolate sandwich. She calmly places the lunchbox on the table in front of Aaron, and stands there with her arms folded. "So, isn't she your…subordinate, of some sort? You are her boss, aren't you?"

Hotch nods slowly. "Yes, I am." Her flippant acceptance of what he's telling her unnerves him greatly, and he eyes her cagily. "Although, to be fair; I wasn't technically back on the team when it happened, and neither was she." He doesn't want to seem like he's justifying what happened, but he wants Haley to know that there are loopholes in the age-old argument of fraternizing with co-workers.

"Oh, okay, because here I thought, you know; that the BAU would have some sort of fraternization rules, but it's good that you worked through it." Haley shrugs, and Hotch decides that yes; he is most definitely witnessing a psychotic break.

Her tone is somewhere between bitter, calm and pleased, and Hotch moves off his seat to approach her. "Haley…." He reaches out for her, but she waves him away. Instead she moves back around the kitchen island and decides to reassemble the flower organization sitting in the vase by the corner of the vase.

"So…," she begins conversationally, plucking off the wilting leaves of her flower display. "This…baby – that means you're with Emily. Prentiss, you called her that night. Do you call her Emily now?" She looks at him over the flowers; almost lazily as she tilts her head and smiles at him a demure smile that frightens him more than soothes him.

He nods hastily. "Yes, I call her Emily now, but we're not together. Now won't you please sit back down?" he suggests in exasperation. He's prepared for indignant Haley and outraged Haley. He's not prepared for Haley going completely insane. Having her safely away from all things that shatter will keep his mind at peace for the most part.

Haley shakes her head at him. "Oh no, I'll just – take a walk around the kitchen." She spins away from him, her movements fast and heated. "So, she had a baby. That's…nine months, isn't it? That's nine months between then and now that you could've somehow brought this up with me before. Didn't it occur to you as something worth mentioning?" Her attention is on him once more, as she leans on her elbows on the island to pour a glass of water into the vase of flowers.

She straightens on her palms at the edge of the island, leaning heavily on them as she stares at him expectantly, waiting for an answer that will somehow have all of this make sense to her.

"I would've told you the moment I found out, but I only found out myself, last night," he replies swiftly, knowing full well that now her questions will divert to ones pertaining to Emily. Those questions, he is ready for.

The blonde seems to consider this for a moment, becoming the calm, rational woman that he knows and loves (platonically now). "Huh. So she's been keeping this from you then. She's been keeping you away from the baby or you didn't figure it out somehow, if she was nine months pregnant and walking around in the office. Didn't you think that maybe the child inside her was, oh I don't know, yours?"

"She's been away for almost a year." He says this defensively; although he has been kicking himself for not putting the pieces together earlier. There was something about her being away that had never sat right with him, and his gut told him that there was something deeper to it. All he could think of at the time was that she was away from him, and he hated it. The memory of having her away for so long has his mood shifting off to irritable already.

"Okay, so she's been running away then; keeping this baby from you. Why did she come back then? Why is she back home and why is she telling you about the baby now?" Haley's back to calm and reasonable, and she asks him questions that genuinely concern her. She might not know Emily well, but she hopes that the woman is not in any way, the gold digging Ambassador's daughter her mind wants her to believe.

Hotch purses his lips and gives her a mildly chastising look, to which Haley merely shrugs as if he should already know why she asks this. "She came home because she had a responsibility to the team; I wanted her back with us, as did the rest of the team. She told me about Mia because…well, I'm her father."

Something in Haley's brain clicks, as she recalls the pretty woman's face, and summons up an image of an adorable little baby girl; with her mother's dark hair and her father's dimples. She softens, because this is an innocent child brought into the world, having done nothing wrong to her but simply exist.

She can't help but feel just a little bit bitter though – she thinks if they hadn't divorced, they might've wanted to try for a girl too. "Well, congratulations then, Aaron. She has a very pretty name. I'm sure it suits her," she tells him politely.

"It does," he murmurs in agreement, Mia's smiling face flashing across his mind. He sobers, and gestures for her to return to the breakfast table. "Please sit down, Haley."

Haley concedes, finally resuming her position at the breakfast table with him. Concern is the predominant emotion she feels now; concern and confusion. "Why is she telling you this now? Does she want money? Does she want you to sign off on the parental rights? Why did she keep it from you for so long?" Honestly she doesn't think a person like Emily would do any of these things, but what does she know. She's not a profiler, and she'd only met the woman for one night. But be that as it may, Haley can tell that Emily is most certainly not someone as conniving as that.

Hotch's shoulders sag somewhat, and he begins to narrate to Haley the brief version of Emily's absence. "She kept it from me because she was afraid that if the knowledge of Mia's existence was revealed too soon, our divorce would've been…."

"Messy," she finishes for him, and she nods sagely. "That was very brave of her; raising Mia on her own for us," she comments. She sees Emily in a different light now; she sees this exhausted woman sitting up with the little baby all through the night, nursing and burping and rocking Mia until the sun peaks from the edges of her window. Haley's done all this with Jack, and she knows how much it takes out of a person, but even then, she had Aaron to take turns with.

Emily had –  _has_  – no one to rely on.

And now she's come back to work – leaving Mia with a nanny, most likely, but still has to wake at God awful hours of the night with her daughter; after days of solving gruesome murders and talking to sadistic psychopaths.

Aaron is speaking again, and Haley hurriedly tunes back in just in time to catch the important sections of his statement. "…she told me to fight for you and Jack; that I shouldn't let Jack grow up without his father around, and I did. We tried, didn't we, Haley?" His hazel eyes search hers, hoping to find reassurance from the woman about their marriage. He still feels that he's failed as a husband and father, but he vows to make up for it the best he can, and hope that he doesn't make the same mistake with Mia and Emily.

Haley nods briefly. "We did," she replies, offering him a smile that shows him that she doesn't resent the divorce – she hasn't in a long time, but it doesn't mean she likes talking about it. "People move on with their lives; sometimes it can't be helped with who they do it with." She says all this calmly, much like when she explains something to Jack, and Hotch finds that he takes comfort in it.

"So, tell me now; she was selflessly running away, in order to ensure that your marriage and ultimately divorce didn't end in bloodshed?" Aaron nods, perplexed himself, but Haley isn't blind or dumb. She knows exactly why Emily did what she did, and what she's doing now. She realizes that she wants to clarify this with the woman herself, because the answer is already written all over his face. "So…when can I see them?"

Aaron blinks. "Excuse me?" Surely she's not –

"When can I meet Emily and Mia?" she clarifies, staring at him expectantly. It's not that she's overly enthusiastic about the idea, or eager in any way, but she waits for his response patiently. It's obvious her question is one he least expects, but Haley takes a little bit of a wicked pleasure in surprising her ex-husband. "What, Aaron? You said you're not ashamed of them, and you don't regret it. I want to meet them; I want to talk to Emily. I won't hurt her, or the baby, if that's what you think I'd do."

He eyes her suspiciously still. "Yes, but I…wasn't prepared for this. I expected you to react differently," he confesses. Violently is more accurate; he's surprised she hasn't already given him stitches in his skull or at least given him a black eye. Haley has a wicked right hook on her when she means it.

Haley rolls her eyes at his skeptical glance. "This isn't Real Housewives of Virginia, Aaron. There won't be any weave pulling or clawing of any kind, I promise."

A startled chuckle rumbles out of his throat at that before he can help himself; the image of Emily and Haley tearing out chunks of each other's hair is both amusing and terrifying at the same time because it could happen. "I'm still…rather surprised at how well you're taking this," he tells her candidly.

Haley's eyebrow arches. "Tell me what you want me to say, Aaron. Would you prefer it if I broke the vase against your face, or hunt Emily down and throw a Molotov through her window?" she drawls sarcastically. She makes a move as if reaching for the vase by the island, but Aaron snatches her hand in his before she can even turn around.

"That's – not necessary," he sputters promptly, scowling when she looks at him wryly. "Is there a particular reason that you want to see them, or do you just want to continuously send me to my grave early?"

She scoffs at him indulgently. "I want to talk to her, of course. Would it hurt if your ex-wife is reaching out to the mother of your other child? She's a very beautiful woman, Aaron; I might also want to peek at Mia and see for myself just how precious she really is," she snipes at him, standing suddenly as she begins to bustle around the kitchen again. "I'll come with you today."

Hotch sputters, standing to chase after her as she begins to pack water bottles and sandwiches. "What are you talking about? I'm not seeing them today!" he objects incredulously. What is his ex-wife going on about?

"So call Emily and tell her to meet you at the park then," she orders patiently, brushing past him to place the water bottles on the table beside Jack's lunchbox. "It's a nice day, and Mia would like the open air." She rounds on him when a thought occurs to her. "How old is Mia?" she queries.

His answer is almost automatic. "Three months."

Haley blinks. "Huh. Well then, I guess the thought counts."

Hotch shakes his head to clear the incredulity from it, and tails Haley around the kitchen as he does his best to convince her to reconsider this idea of hers. Emily is most definitely going to  _never_ let him see Mia again. "You don't know if she has time for us," he warns Haley, plucking a bread knife from her hand. "You don't even know if she'll agree to see you!"

She snatches the knife back and slaps him sharply on the wrist. "So call her and ask." The knife is wielded sinisterly enough for him to step away from her, and Haley glares at him expectantly until he reluctantly brandishes his phone from his pocket.

"I hope you realize she's going to think you want to claw her eyes out," Hotch mutters, placing his phone to his ear as he shoots her an accusatory glare.

Haley merely smiles sweetly. "I have full faith in your abilities, Agent Hotchner."

* * *

" _Are you out of your MIND?"_

Hotch winces at the shrill hiss of Emily's voice over the phone; so harsh is her tone that the tinny speaker has his ear ringing. He had called her up, explaining to her Haley's plan, and Emily reacted as he expected her to.  _"You want me to just_ _ **hand myself**_ _over to Haley so that she can call me a home wrecker to my face?_ _ **Really**_ _, Hotch?"_

"She's not going to call you anything of the sort," he pacifies her, glancing over his shoulder as he stands off in the corner of the patio to talk to her. He knows Haley's most probably listening in, so he turns away from the house, and clutches the phone closer to his ear. "It's nothing of the sort, Emily. She just wants to…reach out to you?" He's not even sure why, if he's honest. "She wants to let you know that she doesn't hold this against you, I'm assuming."

Emily chortles snidely.  _"Sure. Maybe she'll hold something else against me; a gun, or a knife, if she's feeling creative."_

"Emily," he chides her, his tone soft but disapproving.

" _What? You can't tell me that's not something that hasn't crossed her mind. It would if I were her."_

He rolls his eyes at her, though she cannot see him; he knows the message is sent across when she huffs petulantly from the other side of the call. "She's reaching out, Emily. She just wants to talk. I'll be there the whole time with Jack, within distance if she decides to pull anything funny." There's movement from the corner of his eye, and he turns sharply to catch Haley listening in none too surreptitiously. "And since we're  _federal agents_  -," he shoots Haley a look, and the woman disappears behind the door. "We can arrest her if need be."

Emily grunts in disgust, but he knows the sound. She's resigning herself to his logic, and he can already imagine her scowling at him.  _"_ _ **Fine**_ _, I'll come see you at the park."_  She says it like it physically pains her to do so. " _Really, though? I mean – don't you think this is a little bit…sudden? This came out of nowhere."_

"Yes, well Mia was just a little bit  _sudden_  too, wasn't she?" he quips benevolently, and he can almost see her wince through the phone.

" _God damn it."_ Hotch knows he has a point, and she knows it too.  _"I'll meet you at the park then? Mia's napping right now, but we'll probably both be awake by noon."_ She naps when Mia naps, and Hotch knows this because it's the only way Emily gets enough sleep nowadays. He thinks to push the meeting further into the day, but he remembers that Mia gets put down rather early in the evening.

He nods his acquisition, and realizes later that she cannot see him. "We'll be waiting."

" _Dear God, I'm terrified already."_ Her tone is dry, but he is immensely thankful that she is indirectly doing this for him. Mostly Mia too, of course, but it means a lot to him knowing that she's relenting at his behest.

He can only hope he doesn't scare her away any more than he already has.

**Author's Note:**

> I can promise you more chapters somewhere within the week? If it's up to par, that is. I somehow feel that AO3 is just this...elite little site of awesomeness and amazing writers and I'm just here like "...I like tortoises."


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